Shadow of the Day
by Wends
Summary: The memoirs of a loner, the doldrums of a doubter, the calamity of the sky and the might of the moon-deity meld in a dance that threatens not only sanity and livelihoods, but worlds and the fabric of reality itself.   rated for language and violence
1. Closing Both Locks

Well, here we go. Another new story (that will in no way be nearly as long as BCD). The premise for this one was easy to decide on – while it seems almost cliché to write a fic with this particular plot, I've yet to see it done properly for the VIII universe. I believe this is due to the fact that most of these fics have been written by individuals who have either exclusively focused on VII, played only VII, or hated VIII for some reason but liked the idea of Cloud having GFs and access to a flying military academy. I've also decided to write one in which game stats are actually used – everyone seems to forget that while Cloud/Vincent/etc. may be awesome, the characters in VIII have every potential to be just as if not more powerful depending on how they're junctioned. Don't worry, VII fans – I won't be belittling or trashing your game. My intention is simply to write it correctly from the VIII stance. Cloud will still be awesome. Just don't expect any SeeD to be overly enthralled; their source of amazement wouldn't be 'wow, look how powerful he is!' anyway, but rather 'weird that he's that powerful without GFs. Even Zell needs Brothers and a couple _Meltdowns_ before he can air-juggle dragons.'

I apologize posthaste for any inaccuracies found. While I'm fairly certain my VIII representation will be close to spot-on, my VII might not be so adequate to some. I've made some effort – watching 'Advent Children' once more, replaying Crisis Core, finding Let's Plays of Dirge of Cerberus (because I REFUSE to play that game again), and blasting through FFVII again for good measure. So while I won't profess expertise on VII, I will say I've made every reasonable effort to make it as accurate as possible. If I've made errors, please tell me so in a polite PM or email and I'll try to rectify the problems post-haste.

Events that take place after the games'/movie's/etc. conclusion are derived of my imagination, and are obviously not canon. Feelings that weren't expressed during the games are my interpretation of why characters behave as they did/my own interpretation of the characterization of particular persons in the game. They're there for fun and/or fleshing out the setting.

Each chapter is divided into 2 halves, each written to revolve around an individual main protagonist. This format will be utilized throughout the entire story. And now that I've rambled enough to bore you to tears, let's head on to this mess.

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 1  
><span>Closing Both Locks<span>

_Let's be honest. At first, I thought Selphie's idea to keep a journal was the most ridiculous and potentially imbecilic plan I'd ever entertain. Yet here I am maintaining a written record of events, scribbling down everything that has happened of late that I can recall before those thoughts and memories are erased from my mind._

_I'm actually taking her suggestion seriously. I never dreamed there would be a day when I would consider anything spilling from Selphie Tilmitt's questionably addled brain as wisdom, and yet I'm making plans to set aside time to write in this journal at least once a day if anything memorable occurs._

_So what can change a hardened mind? Let's record this before I forget and choose to stop this seemingly insipid exercise._

_I tried to unjunction Eden today._

_It's been nearly nine months since the party on Garden proclaiming our victory over Sorceress Ultimecia. Five months have drifted by since my eighteenth birthday. Four months ago, Quistis was fully reinstated as an instructor and threw a party to commemorate the event, terminating it early when Xu succumbed to the liberal quantities of alcohol that found its way into the celebratory punch bowl. Two months ago, we managed to prevent Selphie from forcibly removing Irvine's head from his body when three strippers showed up on the pier dedicated to our Garden waving signs professing that he'd get a free birthday hour at their establishment downtown. Six weeks ago Nida started a new program in the SeeD curriculum, dedicating his time to teaching those students who showed significant engineering and navigational aptitude the ins and outs of piloting the Garden. Zell tearfully attended his adopted father's funeral last month, the elder Dincht having succumbed to a heart attack derived from stress and a poor diet. Two weeks have passed since I last heard word of a Seifer-plus-posse sighting, this time brought to me by SeeD personnel stationed temporarily at Dollet. Yesterday I proposed to Rinoa and, to my surprise and buried delight, she cheerfully accepted._

_Last night while curled together in bed, she'd mentioned something about how she'd never thought that dancing with the boy she'd met at Balamb Garden during her ill-fated run with the Forest Owls would result in her being affianced._

_She'd recoiled almost physically when I'd been confused._

_I've actually forgotten how we'd met. The dance at Garden's graduation ceremony that we'd supposedly met at is wiped clean from my mind._

_Apparently the rumors about Guardian Force effects on human minds are more true than we wished them to be._

_When Rinoa had separated herself from me to sort through her belongings and show me the white dress and matching pumps she loved so much, she asked me when I could first remember seeing her in them. I'd honestly answered that my first recollection of her in that ensemble was at Fisherman's Horizon, when Selphie had finally arranged and performed her concert and Rinoa and I had spoken of insecurities and the uncertain future under the faint light of the stars._

_Her wrinkled nose and slightly narrowed eyes as she looked at her dress befuddled me for a few moments. When she'd then asked if I remembered the day I'd made SeeD, I found myself bereft of any response. Reflections turned inward, I searched every nook and cranny of my mind. Eventually I was forced to concede that there was nothing left for me to find._

_That disturbed me._

_It disturbed me enough that I decided to finally go through with what all of my other companions with the noted exception of Selphie had done – I attempted to upload my Guardian Forces back into the Garden hard drive to store them for future use._

_I'd kept them junctioned for some reason I have no recollection of. It was unwise and illogical, given the mounting evidence of ill-effects on the human brain, but for a rational that escapes my memory I'd decided against taking the encouraged action of releasing them to the system._

_When I'd attempted to upload them, Shiva, Cerberus, Carbuncle and Diablos willingly parted ways. Rather, if they were unwilling to go they were unable to overcome my will thrusting them from my brain and into the hard drive of the massive Balamb Garden site-wide computer system._

_Eden was another story._

_She'd grasped so tightly to my mind that I felt searing pain flow through my nerves when I attempted to push her away. Every gentle nudge was met with force tenfold, her silver wings digging their ways deeper into my lobes. I recall being frustrated and deciding that enough was enough with the gentle prodding – I attempted to throw her from my mind with every ounce of mental strength I have._

_I don't truly know what happened. All I know is that I woke up this afternoon in Medical, my head bandaged and my body so bruised that I hardly appeared to be human. I physically ached, the mere action of laying on a mattress a testimonial to my ability to withstand tortuous pain._

_I remember my breath being shaky and shallow before the potions started coming, every molecule of air hurting as they filled my lungs and moved what must have been cracked ribs. Doctor Kadawaki had nearly shrieked in shock when she'd poked her head into my room and noticed my state of pseudo-awareness. She then came barreling into my room with potions veritably coming out of her ears._

_Funny, all I thought of at that moment in time was whether Garden had actually allocated the funds to the Medical Department for the purpose of garnering that many potions, and why I didn't remember seeing an order requisition in my inbox._

_I tingled as she liberally dosed me in glowing blue liquid, watching with dulled senses as it seeped effortlessly into my battered body. When I'd asked her what had happened, she told me that she'd no idea – I'd been dragged into Medical by one of the faculty members that's in charge of the computer laboratory I'd been utilizing. Every muscle in my body had been so tightly clenched that my bones were fracturing under the strain and my tendons were being ripped from their mountings. Every capillary in my body had burst, coloring my skin purple._

_I'd not believed her until I garnered a glance of myself in the shiny reflective surface of her rolling surgical cart and saw myself with my own blood-red eyes._

_Then Rinoa had stormed in, professing that she didn't give a damn about visitor restrictions and that she was going to see me come hell or high water. She managed to make standing up to the demon that secretly rested under Doctor K's unassuming figure that rose and belligerently stuffed all SeeDs back into their mediocre hidey-holes seem completely effortless, Rinoa's stubborn determination lighting her soft brown eyes with hellfire._

_I love that girl._

_She'd covered her mouth when she'd seen what state I was reduced to. Then she'd asked what had happened._

_When I heard that voice in the back of my head whispering to me, cackling as her song of apocalyptic destruction raged across my senses and spoke of her desire to remain with her chosen vessel, I felt my heart skip a beat._

_Eden had me, and she refused to let go. Even giving her the option of juctioning to another SeeD was met with a snarl of laughter and a profession that if I attempted to strip her from my mind I would suffer greater pain than she had already put me through. She informed me in no uncertain words that she would kill me if I made any move to thrust her from my mind again._

_That's when I asked Rinoa to get me this journal book and decided that Selphie may not have had a bad idea for once in her life._

_I can't get rid of a Guardian Force. The most powerful Guardian Force in the history of mankind has decided that my brain is a comfy place to nest and that she'll have no other vessel. She apparently likes my memories, my ability to meet her demands and my willingness to fulfill her desires for flesh and death. Faced with the inevitability of having Eden junctioned for the rest of my natural life and the subsequent demolition of my memories, I think I have no other options._

_So that's why I'm keeping this journal. I've already lost enough. My sister, my family, every home I've ever known besides Garden itself, some would even argue my humanity with the atrocities I've had attributed to me. I don't want to lose my memories as well. I'd rather take part in this strange exercise of maintaining a log of my daily activities and lock my existence firmly into place than allow everything to fade away, flitting out of the open window of what is destined to be a mediocre memory._

_No matter hor horrid it is, I want a record. I want to know what's shaping me and molding me. I want to keep a record of everything that happens from now on. I want tangible evidence of my life with Rinoa._

_Because she's too precious to forget._

* * *

><p>The motorcycle leaned heavily to the left, its front wheel turned in that direction and its massive frame barely maintained upright by its rider.<p>

Taking a moment to run a gloved hand through thick, naturally spiked blond hair, the owner of the impressive bike let a dreary sigh seep from his lungs. Lashes brushed against sun-speckled cheeks as he blinked a few times to clear sweat from his eyes prior to allowing his gaze to sweep over the barren fields that surrounded him.

One hand lightly rested on the handlebar of his cycle, the other reaching to his forehead to wipe offending droplets of perspiration from his brow, Cloud Strife settled more firmly on his seat as glowing blue eyes shaded by heavy black sunglasses beheld a still, blistering hot desert plain with apparently no life dwelling upon it.

A quick punch of a button on the dash of his motorcycle quickly closed the storage compartments in which the segments of First Tsurugi rested, the hollow-core blade he'd just used to put down the Midgar Fang that had attacked him already cleaned and returned to its proper place. As the bike's body panels shut seamlessly to restore the aerodynamic design of the vehicle, Cloud returned his nonchalant stare to the monster that he had struck down.

Thin and bedraggled, the creature's ribs and spine visible, it was a pathetic sight to behold. Likely the beast was hunting for what it had assumed would be an easy meal.

Cloud couldn't care less. It had attacked. He had defended himself. If only one of the two combatants involved in a conflict was destined to come out alive, he would make every effort to assure it was him.

Years ago, he might not have had such resolution.

Years ago, he didn't appreciate the simple fact that he had people and a place waiting for him to return.

Now he lived with that calming resolution in his heart. He had a home to go back to. He had a semblance of family that wished him to come back to them.

Tifa would always greet him with an enthusiastic smile and a hug overflowing with love. If it had been an especially long period of detachment, she would go so far as to kiss him, whatever restraint she normally maintained with him when visible to the public eye thrown to the winds. Marlene would always toss her arms around him with glee, her face brilliant with an overjoyed smile. Denzel would grin cheekily and nod his greeting.

If that annoying red-head were at the bar, he'd turn, snort, lift his stein in greeting before professing that Cloud still made him sober and wishing that the blond had been eaten by a chocobo on his journeys in order to maintain his happy near-drunk buzz, then return to the task of slurping down his alcohol. His bald-headed partner would look in Cloud's direction, his expression bland and his eyes hidden by his eternally present sunglasses, before mimicking his partner in action if not in so many words.

Despite those two unfortunately frequently encountered thorns in his side, Cloud had found solace and, daresay, a small hint of joy in the knowledge that he finally had a small vestige of stability upon which to rest his laurels and find peace. 'Home' was something he'd not had the pleasure of experiencing since his days prior to joining ShinRa's army, long preceding Junon's invasion by Professor Hollander and his robot destroyers, predating Sephiroth's fall from grace, before Nibelheim's burning.

His hands both found the grips of his motorcycles handlebar, giving the throttle a quick, encouraging twist. The monstrous black beast between his legs growled its response, its voice a thick and throaty rumble. It vibrated roughly, the exhaust poured from its curved piping stirring dust as it breathed its profession of power and impatience with remaining stationary. Seating himself firmly on Fenrir's sloped seat, finding that groove his body and the bike had made over their years conforming to one another, Cloud straightened the front wheel and rested his foot calmly on the clutch even as his fingers lightly pressed the brakes.

"Let's go home."

Fenrir snarled in reply.

The remainder of the trip passed quickly, the setting sun illuminating the thin strip of dust-coated asphalt that stretched towards Edge. Tires chewed empty miles that reached into eternity, the length of road never seeming to shorten even as the small projections that sprang from the distant desert ground began to grow into the sky and define themselves as skyscrapers populating the foreboding environment. Heat and sand whirled around him like an inescapable dust devil, coating him in grime and sweat even as granules of gold skittered across the barren and cracked road. His shadow raced him to his left, leaning heavily forward as it warped and bent to accommodate the quickly-passing scenery and skipped from ground to rock to ground to mountainside with his travels.

As the day's heat began to fade along with the glowing red light cast by day's star seeping into the distant west and night's chill breeze brushed over the blond motorcyclist's bare arms, the road ceased to rumble whimpers about its unkempt state and instead became silent and satisfied with its smooth condition. Seconds later a sign dangling over the roadway suspended by towering steel gray posts professed in bold white letters, 'Edge – 6km.'

The road segregated itself from the desert's hard stone, rising deftly above it on concrete pillars to sail over a dried riverbed before sweeping into an elevated tunnel that brought a stark change in lighting to Cloud's eyes. White lights illuminated the road that passed swiftly under his bike as he flipped his sunglasses up onto his forehead to hide their plastic black lenses in the soft fetters of his wispy blond hair.

When he emerged from the tunnel's maw and started the downward slalom towards hard earth once more, Cloud's eyes swept their gaze appreciatively over the city that now sprawled before him.

Despite its trails and tribulations, the small hovel that had risen from the ashes of monstrous Midgar's terminal fall had blossomed. Where once was a smattering of sprawling half-finished buildings and pale steel beams jutting from uninviting concrete now resided a recognizable and respectable city. Buildings twisted in imaginative designs, glass reflecting the faint light of the stars and the brilliance of the moon along with the yellow glow that emanated from the street lamps that lined the city's streets. Stretching for the heavens, those skyscrapers stood in defiance of the fate that befell its fellow technological marvel that rested but a few kilometers away, sticking out of the crater that swallowed it at odd intervals and at strange angles. Sprawling spirals of homesteads, less overwhelming and exuberant than the towering industrial center that dominated the landscape, surrounded the mighty projections that spurted from the earth. Dotted among the skyscrapers themselves, small business buildings cast their warm light onto the streets, giving the city a sparkling nighttime life that exemplified stark contrast with the peaceful darkness of the rest of the desert. Accompanying the entire ensemble was the soft blue-green light that still radiated from the remains of Midgar, casting a backdrop of color to the city's night.

Soon Cloud eased off the gas, Fenrir purring as it slowed from a breakneck race to make city limits to a more casual pace to pass through masses of people mingling among one another and the buildings that towered over them. A quick series of turns, a passing down an empty side street and a reemergence onto a main causeway lead him to his inevitable destination even as the streets were emptying and people were bidding one another good night.

Swinging past the entryway to the establishment he'd been seeking to reach for so very long, Cloud steered his motorcycle into a shadow-ridden alley that skittered between the building that he'd set as his journey's terminus and its neighbor. Once he was satisfied with Fenrir's position, he dismounted and covered his monstrous black bike with a conveniently placed protective tarp before shuffling with his head bowed and his feet scuffing carelessly on the concrete walkway to the large wooden double doors that stood between him and home. The only open portal to the streets at the hour Cloud found himself standing upon the bar's stoop was one window, still cracked open to let the cigarette smoke of the evening's cliental seep from the establishment's interior but sporting a red 'Closed' sign. A quick glance to the joining of the two doors revealed that the deadbolt had yet to be engaged; the doors had been left open, perhaps waiting for Cloud's arrival.

He had no hesitation as he reached for the nearest door handle as he might have years ago. Before, he was a lost soul wandering the planet seeking redemption for injustices done onto others and searching for answers concerning his own past and his place in the newly emerging world. He was as uncertain of his place in the building he now called home as he was about his own past, about his own worthiness to continue existing as a human being.

When he'd taken to the road and found rest in Midgar's ruins nestled among the rotting pews of the church where flowers grew, he'd avoided the bar he was about to enter and its proprietor for a slew of reasons. Regardless of her continual proclamations concerning him being as genuine as any other person, he still found doubt in his origins – whether he was a creation of the coupling of a man and a woman that had been born in Nibelheim and raised as Tifa's next door neighbor or was actually a creation of science birthed of Jenova's cellular matter and Hojo's insanity still plagued his conscience. For if he were the first, he was a sour bully who had failed at every endeavor he'd attempted to undertake, ultimately allowing his sorry state to drag his most precious friend to his death. If he was the second, he wasn't what he would consider 'real,' truly nothing more than a puppet to be manipulated and controlled as those who had power over him would see fit.

He suspected that, ultimately, he was a little of both. The prospects of such bothered him immensely, as the more he reflected on what he had learned during his time enveloped in the Lifestream seemed to belittle and make moot the sacrifices that had been made during his ventures. His friend had given his life for nothing more than a sad little bully from a backwater town. The woman who had claimed his heart had died due to the inability of a puppet to cut its strings and effectively strike against its controller. The woman who doted over him, while aware of his conundrum, offered little in the way of answers and encouraged instead acceptance of what reality was at that moment without care of the route taken to reach that reality.

Cloud had once found that lacking in satisfaction, but as time had passed and events had unraveled he'd learned to embrace Tifa's resolution. After facing off with the remnants, seeing first hand what dedication to the belief that one's life was nothing but the motions of a puppet answering the call of a higher controlling power was truly like, Cloud found he could easily see the differences in actions and thought patterns that firmly seated him in the realm of humanity. The professions from those spirits he loved that rested in the Lifestream that he wasn't ready to join them accompanied by the enthusiastic expressions of his friends when he'd opened his eyes after the explosion that had nearly claimed him sealed his resolution to live. Tifa's brilliant smile, Denzel's childish hero-worship and Marlene's overflowing and unconditional love convinced him to live his life with as much happiness as he could garner.

Still, he found it difficult to remain still. While he was comfortable with his more settled reality, the questions of the past still needled at his mind.

Those flickers of green he'd see in his sleep, the quiet whispers and laughter that rang in his ears, the burn of foreign cells in his blood even after the purging of humanity by the Lifestream encouraged him to wander. Questions still existed; was there any possibility of the past rising once more? Was a dark angel's promise to be more than just a memory a black omen of future events? Was the sinister alien that plagued the planet still capable of bringing chaos and havoc? Would he be its instrument once more, as he'd been when he'd delivered the black materia that had brought about Midgar's death to the one who would use it?

The answers were out there – he would continue to seek them until they were found. But until they were available, he would return to the place he had been offered, the place he shared with Tifa and called home.

He wouldn't run anymore. He had no reason to. He was accepted, and he had finally learned to accept himself.

_Seventh Heaven_ was quiet, a smattering of lights illuminating its warm wooden interior. The tables were still glistening, lightly wetted by a cleaning rag that had been recently run over their surfaces. The floor was spotless, recently swept free of debris. The establishment had been closed for a good hour or two, given the depth of cleaning accomplished by the proprietor.

There were still two other bodies in the lounge, both readily recognized by Cloud yet only one bringing joy. The pair were involved in a softly spoken conversation, voices dampened as if afraid to stir the calm serenity of the very early morning atmosphere that weighted down upon them. Likely, Cloud realized, they were keeping it down because one of the kids was visiting and sleeping upstairs.

As the person seated on a stool reached with long fingers to caress the hand of the woman who stood behind the bar that separated them, Cloud cleared his throat.

The startled jump and slight tilt that hinted of inebriation brought a small yet satisfied smile to Cloud's lips. The redhead that had been speaking so at depth with the bar's owner that he'd failed to notice Cloud's entry scowled brilliantly, crystal blue eyes flickering dangerously above fiery red slashes in the low light even as Cloud's sea-colored orbs glowed without care.

Tifa smiled, her expression bright and cheerful. "Cloud, welcome home," she happily exclaimed.

"Tch," Reno snarled as he rose from his seat, taking a moment to lay a hand on the bar's heavy silver railing to steady himself before claiming his smoldering cigarette from the nearby ashtray and setting it between his lips. "Still haven't been killed, I see," he gruffly stated, his voice colored with agitation.

"Tifa," Cloud greeted even as he let the door close behind him and walked to the bar. Taking a moment to look at Reno, he gave the man a polite nod. Turning his attention back to the woman he arched a slim yellow brow. "Want me to throw him out for you?"

As she stepped around the bar and gave Cloud his expected hug, Reno snorted sharply and shook his head with one sharp clip. "Was already on my way, zo to. Don't like to stick around buzz-kills."

Glancing around Cloud, Tifa smiled. "Later then, Reno."

"Yeah, yeah," Reno huffed, hands snaking into his pockets as he tromped towards the door, every movement exaggerated. Once at the door, he glowered at it for a few moments as if it had personally offended him by not opening automatically before lifting a hand free of its fabric confines and properly operating it rather than nudging it with his toe as Cloud had seen him do on multiple occasions.

The door clicked audibly as it swung shut behind the interloper. Cloud stared at the wooden panel, torn between being disconcerted by the wily Turk's behavior or highly amused by his laughably predictable attitude.

Tifa brought him clear out of his deliberations with a quiet laugh. "At least that ended without any destroyed furniture this time."

"Didn't look like he had his EMR on him. First Tsurugi's in the bike," Cloud handily supplied.

"Oh, shush. I was complementing you on your civil behavior," she lambasted before taking his arm and leading him towards a booth by the cracked-open window, their privacy maintained by the drawn blinds and the empty state of the city streets outside. "So, tell me about your trip," she prompted.

A shrug rustled Cloud's trench coat as he frowned. "Nothing much to tell. It was just a delivery run to Rocket Town." A sigh rattled his lungs. "Sometimes I don't know why Reeve insists on never using the postal service."

"Because he's actively supporting your business endeavor," Tifa replied. "You should be grateful, not exacerbated."

"It just takes me away from home."

Tifa stilled, her mouth partially opened with a halted reply. Letting her mouth shut, her lips curled into a smile peppered with happiness. "Cloud," she breathed.

"Guess I should make the most of the time I have. Don't know when I'm going to be sent out again, after all," Cloud said with a casual shrug.

Her smile became toothy and bright as she rose from the booth. "You're right. You look tired, Cloud. Maybe we should turn in for the night."

"Sure thing," he handily replied, reaching over and pulling the window they were situated next to shut.

As he closed both locks below the window, he let a calm, shy smile claim him. It was good to be home.

_-to be continued-_


	2. Closing the Blinds

Sorry there's not really any action yet, but we're still in that 'development' stage of the story. No worries – stuff'll start happening soon enough! For further drabble, please see the bottom of this story.

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 2  
><span>Closing the Blinds<span>

_I never dreamed that I would be listening to advice from Selphie with regularity._

_Her suggestion to keep a journal was so spot-on, however, that I've decided that she deserves more than a casual listen and dismissal. Even if most of her professions are usually benign and ridiculous, she does impart some advice that even I am beginning to see the wisdom in._

_It's now been two weeks since I'd attempted to unjunction Eden. Seven days have passed since the celebratory day for lovers had passed, mine having been spent with Rinoa sitting beside my hospital bed and her laughing at my professions that Garden's Jell-O was the worst thing I'd ever had to endure in my life (she was thankfully understanding that dinner and a movie were out of the question, and berated me for apologizing for not getting her chocolates like I was planning). Three days have ended following my release from Medical, Doctor K's acceptance of relinquishing responsibility for my wellbeing only being derived only by Rinoa's continued stubborn resolution to keep me out of trouble and maintain her eye on me. Today I finally went back to work and finally had to face everyone for the first time since I was admitted to our local medical professional's expert care._

_They had filtered into my office one at a time today, grating on me time and time again as I attempted to figure out what all had transpired in the two weeks I'd been missing from my own personal hellhole. Granted they were all concerned, every last one of those people who I consider to be friends professing nothing but caring, but they were beginning to wear at my already thin patience._

_I've never been known to be an inexhaustible well of patience and good mannerism, but I try my best. At the very least, I didn't snap anyone's head off today. That I can recall, anyway; a slip of memory I wouldn't attribute to Eden's influence, but rather simply to the hectic manner in which my day flowed and the stress of trying to piece my life back together._

_I'm certain that their well-wishing, while important in that moment of time to affirm our bonds of friendship, isn't of earth-shattering importance, so I'm not going to bother wasting any more ink on the subject. Just let it be known that I did not snap at Zell that I am, in fact, no real fan of the 'delectable perfection that is the Balamb Garden hot dog' when he suggested we ditch my office and my email and my continually ringing telephone to snag a few from that 'cute pig-tailed girl' that worked with the Library Committee and promised to get him a tray._

_Quistis, Xu, Zell, even Nida… I realize they all meant well. They were just eating into my day. I had infinitely more important things to attend to – I had my overflowing email inbox, my now antiquated voicemail messages, and two weeks of wedding magazines Rinoa had forced me to relinquish my evenings to in order to help her in making apparently world-shattering decisions once my eyes had healed (and she said no going back to the office until I could see straight – she'd conveniently tethered my return to work and our delving into those oddly terrifying documents together)._

_Selphie had been oddly subdued and grounded; the fact that she didn't skip into my office like she always did with a loud squeal of "SQUALLY!" or "Lookit my pretty new rocket launcher!" or some other exuberant nonsense on her lips had my insides instantly knotted with fear. Instead she'd walked in, her feet flat and thumping rhythmically in my thick office carpeting as she strode directly towards my desk and left Irvine to close the door behind them. At my direction she'd taken a seat and folded her hands in her lap, focusing her eyes on me without blinking. Then she'd said something I really don't want to forget._

"_She told you no, didn't she?"_

_I know exactly what she meant. I think it must have shown on my face, because she'd nodded even as Irvine's eyes narrowed considerably after a wash of shock splashed across his features and he walked with that silent sniper's stride of his to her side._

"_Doomy said the same thing to me," she'd revealed moments later. "It's why I suggested the journals, you know. Because they're always loathe to leave, and sometimes it gets hard to say no."_

_I'd suspected after that it would just be the now standardized routine of listening to voiced concern that I'd returned to work so quickly after my ordeal, strong professions that I could overcome Eden's power, handy promises that everyone would be at my side whenever they were needed and et cetera, but instead Selphie twisted her fingers together in her lap and Irvine laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze._

"_Have you been having dreams, Squall?"_

_If she would have asked me about that two weeks ago, I would have shooed her out of my office with a bark for her to stop wasting my time. But now…_

"_They seem to make it happen. Dreams," she clarified. "The longer they're in your head and the stronger they are, the more… I guess you could say prophetic? Yeah, that's right. The more prophetic dreams get. Don't know why, but it happens."_

_As she regaled me with stories of how she'd dreamed that she'd be in a situation she can no longer remember days before it happened back when she was twelve, I originally let myself think about how all of this was nonsense derived by a far too active imagination. But that look in her eyes…_

_Haunted and empty, staring straight into my soul…_

"_And when I first got Doomy, he told me that it was my second time with him and he'd make sure he stayed put this time." I clearly recall the weedy smile, so hopeless and huge on her lips, as she ducked her head. "Seems he was pretty right. He didn't do to me what Eden did to you, but he laughed off my attempt to push him into the hard drive and instead chugged his way deeper into my mind. I gave up trying to get rid of him when he started taking memories of my friends in Trabia and let me know what he was taking away from me."_

_I'd wanted to reach for her, to touch her and somehow reassure her, but with Irvine there to lightly brush her cheek with a long finger and set a hard stare at me, I didn't dare budge. "She's serious, Squall. Just sit back and listen," he'd said._

_For once in my life, I did as instructed without a second thought or complaint._

"_I just thought you should know. I dreamed that we'd be going to the future almost a whole week before we went. Doomy already knew it somehow. He wanted me to know what was going to happen."_

_Her words still linger in my head even as I write this. I tried to send these thoughts to Eden, but she refuses to speak with me directly unless its her will – unlike Shiva, she won't strike up casual conversation with me or answer my nagging questions, but simply decides upon her own time, place and topic to let her voice ravage my mind with its shrieks and apocalyptic song._

_But back to what'd happened in the office, it was about the time that Selphie had finished telling me that Doomtrain had somehow warned her of our inevitable encounter with Ultimecia in her future-based fortress that my phone had rang loudly, shattering the still office air. It snapped Selphie right out of that state of empty-eyed recollection she'd seemed to be trapped in, that had me wondering what exactly Doomtrain was whispering in the depths of her mind and how intent their conversation was._

"_Snack time!" she'd squeaked, her normal Selphie cheer instantly in place as she hopped to her feet and smacked Irvine's hand off of her shoulder. "Join us, why don't'cha!" she ordered with a wink. "After all, you aren't getting anything else done, right? Oh! And make sure you remember Rinny's birthday's coming up, you big doof! You forgot all about poor Sir Laguna, after all." She stuck her tongue out at me right before skipping off, boundless energy verily sparkling in her wake before she wrenched the door to my office open and vanished into the hall._

"_Selphie keeps a dream journal," Irvine had imparted on me after she left my office. "Some of it's nonsense, but some of it… it's spooky, Squall. If her dream revolves around her, it seems almost probable. If she dreams the same thing more than once, it comes true in one way or another."_

_Even as I leaned back in my chair, directing my glower to my computer's softly glowing monitor to keep the far too observant sniper from seeing the fear I was feeling in the depths of my guts straight through my eyes, I recall dismissing him with a nod and a casual profession that it sounded interesting._

_He'd not taken my thinly veiled excusal of his presence and invitation for him to leave me to my devices. Instead, he leaned over my desk, very nearly getting nose to nose with me, the brim of his hat touching my bangs._

_My heart banged wildly against my ribcage as my attention was instantly drawn to him._

_Stupid Galbadian cowboy… it's because he's still so unfamiliar to me. Yes we grew up together at the orphanage, but that was only for a year; and that was so washed into the sands of the past that I couldn't readily redress those times, as they'd likely been consumed and no longer existed for me. Yes he was here at Balamb and had been for months on end, but he mainly kept himself busy with Selphie, avoiding work and responsibility as if they carried the plague. And his mindset is so entirely foreign – not caring about the need of Garden for him; his usefulness to this organization, which was paramount to it remaining his home, seemed secondary in his life, whereas it was a primary concern in my own._

_It was also that damned strawberry shampoo he used, just like Rinoa's. And that ridiculous drawl in his voice that made me strain to understand him at times, especially when he slipped into his region's thick slang. The close proximity didn't help any, either – the man has no respect for personal space. Even Zell has respect for personal space._

"_Listen, Squall," he commanded, his voice surprisingly stern. "You're in the same boat she is. I suggest you listen to her. Of all of us, she knows the effects of GFs on the brain. Odine doesn't know anything compared to my Seffie. She's concerned, 'cause what you've got runnin' amuck in your head's a million times worse than what's parked itself in hers. So don't blow her off."_

_I remember telling Irvine that I understood. He'd physically dragged me away from my desk and made me go to the cafeteria to join him and Selphie for snacks._

_I don't even want to know what the students at the Garden thought, seeing the resident playboy cowboy hauling me down the hallway by my t-shirt, me barely able to keep up with his extraordinarily long stride and a flush to my face as he grit his teeth together and soundlessly dragged me along._

_Thanks to those two, I really didn't get much accomplished today. They ate into a lot of my available time to actually work, keeping me away from my desk and computer much longer than I was intending to be absent._

_Goodness knows if I don't get things done, nothing gets accomplished. Cid's taking too many liberties with this 'Commander' position he's created._

_Here I actually thought that he'd take back the administrative stuff once we were done with the saving of the world and what not. Nope, he told me that deciding where to take jobs, where to assign SeeD personnel and where to set the Garden to most expeditiously service our people was all my job now – he was taking the 'administrative road,' which I guess means marlin fishing and spending time with his wife. And I guess acting as school Headmaster every now and again to waggle his finger at the newest troublemaker before sending them back to class with their tail tucked between their legs._

_Must be nice. Having someone to stick with all the dirty work, that is._

_I mean I can kind of see where he's coming from – with Trabia Garden so completely out of commission that it's actually looking like it's going to take another year or two before it can service as a shelter much less an adequate training facility or base for SeeD activity, with Galbadia Garden devastated still from our battle that sank it off the coast of Centra and barely capable of lumbering from location to location and its compliment of soldiers lacking thanks to the huge losses they suffered battling our Garden and the subsequent damages their structure suffered, we were the only truly operational Garden and the only home for SeeDs in the world. Every country has their armies, but we're the only neutral force that exists anymore._

_We're the only pendulum that can swing and change the fate of nations, free of alliances and obligations._

_So since we're the end-all of forces, the only SeeDs in existence and therefore constantly on-call and on-site, Cid's decided that the battle-position of 'Commander' now has a resounding permanence I find supremely aggravating._

_After all, he didn't give me a choice in the matter._

_I know I was supposedly 'the one' who was fated to face off with Ultimecia and what not, but this is utterly ridiculous – I never imagined that I'd be spending the rest of my life immersed in paperwork and developing eyestrain by glowering at computer monitors. I imagined I'd be a bloody smear on the landscape, shat out of a geezard or something._

_I was able to finally call back to a few people. The first was Laguna Loire, President of Esther, concerning SeeD providing security detail during a move of highly sensitive test equipment and controversial material from the Lunatic Pandora Laboratory to the Sorceress Memorial for permanent storage – I'd apologized for my lack of expedience in responding to his demand, and requested a firm timeframe so I could get him people as quickly as possible. Another was a returned email to a contact in Winhill concerning missing cows, informing him that I could not in good conscious go chasing UFO rumors with the limited number of SeeD I had available and would require something more substantiated than a few half-drunk eyewitnesses. The third was a delegate from Timber – a Senator, I think – who had left a message about an odd gathering of monsters around Obel Lake; I'd relayed his voicemail to a contact I have in the region (a man who owes me a favor in exchange for… something I can't recall any longer) to get me more information on the matter before I decided what to do about it. The forth and final for the day was a traveling merchant who ran goods between the restoration site of Trabia Garden and the Shumi Village who's seeking protection for his caravan owing to a rise in the snow lion and gayla populations along his route – I relayed that I would handily draft a contract with him, but we needed an idea of how much he'd be able to put forth so I could properly assign qualified personnel to him. If he could afford it, I might even go myself, if only to get myself out of Balamb for a while._

_Too bad it's in Trabia, though – place is wretchedly cold this time of year. How Selphie can dance around in that icy hellhole with nothing more than a skimpy jumper and thick boots is far beyond me._

_I would have kept going, but Rinoa decided enough was enough and that she'd walk into my office and forcibly dragged me away. I can't say that I was ready to offer her much in the way of resistance._

_We'd had dinner – pasta delivered from her favorite downtown Balamb pizza joint with a couple of sodas – and settled onto the couch in my new suite together._

_Sure is nice to be in a full sized suite now instead of the old SeeD room. I have a lounge all to myself, a bedroom large enough to accommodate a dresser and a queen-sized bed, and a head I don't have to share with anyone other than Rinoa. Never again will I awaken to have Selphie, Quistis and Zell hovering over my bed because I'm late to a team meeting and scaring me senseless when I realize all that's keeping my dignity intact is a flimsy sheet because it was too hot with the Garden's A/C being on the fritz to sleep in pajamas._

_I will now record that Rinoa has settled on ivory being one of her colors. Because if it doesn't get written, it will be forgotten and we'll go through hours of deciding again. The second color awaits a second day of deliberation, currently being trapped firmly between a forest green and a burgundy red. I really would have preferred a dark blue myself, after she shot down my idea of black as being something more for a funeral than a wedding, but apparently a holiday-season wedding doesn't make blue an overly obvious or acceptable choice. Plus, she firmly stated, Selphie just wouldn't look right in blue, and she was going to be one of her bridesmaids._

_I certainly hope she doesn't intend to have more than two or three bridesmaids that I have to match. Otherwise it's going to be… problematic._

_I know she's got a plethora of friends from back in Delling and from her stint with the Forest Owls in Timber, but me? I've been a loner most of my life – sure, I've got a weird fanbase that clings to my heels and a lot of people I associate with, but I'd never feel comfortable asking them to participate actively in my wedding, for crying out loud. They can attend (namely because I can't legitimately stop them short of putting snipers on patrol and giving them permission to shoot to kill), but I don't really want them in the pictures._

_She prattled on about who's going to be the best man and maid of honor, giving me tomorrow's task right off. Deciding on a best man. Shit._

_And every time I tried to inform her tonight that our wedding's almost a full ten months away and we don't have to get everything plotted at this very moment, trying desperately to wrap my arms around her and maybe distract her with a nuzzle and a kiss to her neck right where it usually makes her melt, she'd just shoot me a look full of acid and say 'if we don't get it done now, we're going to regret it later' and instantly crush the mood._

_So burgundy, forest green, Zell or Irvine, Gorgino's or Ferdinand's for catering and where exactly we're going to park the Garden, how to get Laguna to the ceremony in something resembling a suit and which chapel in Delling/Balamb/Esther/Timber we're going to book for the event have suddenly become my priorities in life, Esthar's material transfer be damned._

_Even a night of satisfying sex and Rinoa's soft kisses on my shoulder as her naked body pressed against mine can't lull me to sleep. So now she's curled under the blankets, hugging my pillow and breathing softly with sleep as I finish writing today's thoughts, events and gripes._

_Images of bouquets of wilted flowers, clashing colors and a waving, grinning idiot of a president in a flower-print shirt among formal-wear have haunted me so much that I haven't been able to fall asleep. Better that I accomplish something rather than nothing – writing's surprisingly more soothing than staring at the blank white wash that is my ceiling._

_Well, Rinoa's stirring and looking drowsily my way, her nude form looking soft and inviting as she brushes the blankets aside and purses her lips. Maybe she can sooth me to sleep now._

* * *

><p>The light of the newly risen sun poured viscously through the room's windows, highlighting the soft, nearly invisible streaks left by cheap cleaning solution and illuminating the hovering dust that was drifting through the lightly stirred air carried upon gentle currents produced by the low speed of ventilation fans. A sparkling, almost surreal display, that soft curtain of dust segregated the morning's rays into separate beams of light that pierced through the thin, sparse protection provided to the room beyond by curtains that did not provide perfect coverage, the gaps between separate drapes and the joining of wall and fabric evident. Sea-colored eyes watched the dance of fairy-lit particles drifting lazily through the room, blown free of the ventilation ducts in the ceiling by rise in temperature finally encouraging the thermostat to activate the air conditioning system.<p>

With a sigh, Cloud curled a slim hand's thin fingers into his blanket and pushed it down his body. A quick shiver passed under pale skin and a brief run of chill-induced bumps marred his arms as the breath of artificially cooled air kissed his bare chest and arms. As the wear of that initial shock of cool temperature and the deprivation of the warmth his blankets had imparted upon him wore from his nerves, he swung his feet off the bed and set them on the smooth wood floor before stretching.

His eyes fell across the slender figure that slept peacefully in the bed that mirrored his own, still buried in thick blankets, swaddled in warmth. Dark hair splayed in careless array around her head and obscuring her face from view, Tifa didn't stir once as Cloud rose from his mattress with the barest of creaks following him.

A small smile lit his lips as he stood over her, watching her breath deeply and effortlessly in slumber. It had been weeks, perhaps a month, since he'd last been home, since he'd last witnessed this sight. He intended to drink in all that lay before him as thoroughly as possible, memorizing every tiny detail and committing it to his fragmented, depreciated memory.

After all, this was his new life. A life he would live, separated from the doubts and worries about his past and his questionable origins, filled instead with the recent past formed of friends, foes, a few dismal failures and equally astonishing successes. His life was not the life of the sorry little bully whose inability to attract the attention or affection of the girl he longed for lead him to crass hatred and a vow to become someone worthy of his precious next-door neighbor. His life was not the life of a clone crafted in a laboratory from the genetic material of a now twice-dead SOLDIER and an alien invader of his world. His life was not the life of a doubter, a man whose confusion over which past presented to him was truly reality stood in the way of his ability to live life in the now.

No, his life started in Midgar. When he'd felt her love and tender forgiveness surround him. When he'd seen his hero's specter smile serenely at him before granting him a departing salute and following his one true love into eternity. When he'd opened his eyes and seen the brunette who laid in the cocoon of warmth her blankets provided her cast him a soft smile of her own, outshined only by the adoration that laid deep in her doe eyes.

It was a life without a hearty or well-defined past, but he was okay with that. He'd been forgiven. He'd been deemed worthy to live. He'd been given an identity that was his own, a family to call his own, a home to call his own.

He was finally Cloud Strife. Not a figment of a girl's imagination responded to by alien genetic material, not a shadow of a forgotten boy, not a wandering, hopeless soul without any definition of self. He was himself, and he was home.

And Tifa certainly didn't need an early wake-up. She'd been up quite late the night before, entertaining the most aggravating of persons Cloud regularly was forced to consort with, waiting for him to get home. After all, he'd texted her notification that he'd be arriving some time during the current week. She'd taken it upon herself to diligently wait for him, to ensure the homestead they shared together was warm and welcoming when he arrived.

The barest brush of lips over a cheek marred by a stray tendril of soft brown hair brought a slight smile to sleeping lips and a soft sigh of contentment as arms wrapped more tightly around a soft feather-filled pillow. No action was derived from the light touch of a calloused fingertip upon that cheek that lifted that wild lock from her sun-kissed flesh and returned it to the earthen-colored halo that surrounded her.

Dressing himself as silently as he could and tossing his sleeping pants below his pillow, Cloud slid stealthily from the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Tifa didn't need to awaken until later in the day, her business not opening its doors until the late afternoon during weekdays, and he was going to ensure that he wasn't the catalyst to unwanted consciousness. Keeping his steps quiet as he progressed down the slim wooden hallway from their shared bedroom, he practically tiptoed down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the perpetually squeaky spot on the third step down.

A breath of relief escaped him as he set foot on the ground floor of their establishment and he progressed into the kitchen that existed behind the scenes of the bar and grill's substantial lobby. Routing through the fridge, he settled quickly on a bottle of water and an apple for a makeshift breakfast.

Cloud had work to do, after all. Fenrir had been run through its paces on their journey. It had developed a minor growl that was an abnormality in its usual cacophony of sounds and a vibration that spoke of loosened bolts and nuts. The desert's dust had infiltrated not only every crevice of his own body, but every nook and cranny of his dependable charge, requiring a thorough cleaning. The hot environments combined with the high driving speeds and long hours logged on the road had depleted not only his fuel supply but also aged Fenrir's oil and grease, making the frame of the bike creak and groan in protest to harsh conditions. The bike needed just as much rest and reconstitution as Cloud himself required – he wasn't about to allow its need to go unanswered. His water bottle quickly found its way into one of the massive pockets of the loose cargo pants he'd earlier donned, his apple making its way to the secure grip of his teeth and his gloveless left hand wrapping around the handle of the toolbox he kept under the sink in the kitchen even as his similarly bared right tackled the tasks of opening and closing cabinet doors and repeating those actions with the back door.

Sitting on the ground by his massive cycle, shielded from the dirt and oil of the alley's permanently discolored pavement by the very tarp he used to cover his pride and joy, Cloud kicked his black leather boots off of his feet and made himself comfortable for a long afternoon tinkering with his bike.

Time flew by without his notice, his diligence in tending to his partner in business eradicating his awareness of the rest of the world. He ignored the sensation of his white tank top clinging to his sweaty body as easily as he ignored the passage of the sun across the sky, stretching towards its peak in the sky and destroying the shadows the buildings surrounding him had earlier cast over his body to protect him from the impressive day's heat. However, the passage of people past his position never went undetected – his mind, hyperaware of his surroundings if not time and temperature, made note of every individual that passed by the entrance to the alley in which he worked. While no one would stop to bother him and certainly no stranger would think to accost the blond tending to his bike, he still found it not only difficult but also illogical to lower his constant guard.

After all, with Rufus Shinra's unsavory employees still wandering around the premises after all of this time, one could never be too careful. Regardless of the fact that they had caused no trouble for Cloud and his companions as of late and seemed to actively work with the World Regenesis Organization rather than attempting to undermine it, he still wouldn't trust those individuals as far as he could throw them. They'd proven themselves time and time again to be underhanded, scheming and dishonest so far as Cloud was concerned, and as long as he knew at least one Turk still lived, he would always be on guard.

With his subconscious attention focused on the street, Denzel didn't startle him at all when he suddenly barreled around the corner of _Seventh Heaven_, all smiles and laughter as he nearly bowled the blond mako warrior over. "Cloud!" he cried happily in greeting.

"Hey, Denzel," Cloud replied quietly, a shy and tiny smile turning his lips as he reached forward with his less greasy hand and ruffled the young adolescent's already wild hair.

"Eww," Denzel hissed as he felt oil spread into the wafting spikes of his hair, backing away a touch before squatting by Fenrir's front tire and watching Cloud with a huge grin. "I didn't think you were going to be back so soon. I was surprised to see Fenrir uncovered this morning."

"Why?" Cloud enquired, arching one brow even as he worked his ratchet, tightening a bolt that had come loose over the miles he and Fenrir had traveled.

Denzel shrugged loosely. "You never came back when you said you would before. In fact, you'd never give us a date, much less try and keep it."

Testing the next bolt he had set his eyes on with his fingertips, Cloud allowed another slight smile to curl his mouth. "Tifa would be upset if I were to stay away for long. She's be beyond upset if I were to miss a deadline."

A wild grin took the boy. "We all would. Glad you're back!"

Nodding, Cloud gestured with his chin towards the _Seventh Heaven's _front door. "Why don't you go get breakfast?"

"You mean lunch, right?" Denzel chuckled before rising and quickly dusting off his knees regardless of the fact that they'd not once contacted the ground. "C'mon, Cloud. It's not like you have anywhere to go right now. Your motorcycle can wait for a little while, right?"

Making a mental note to pick up some more grease for the scant joints on his bike, Cloud packed his toolbox and pulled his boots back on, rose from his seat and covered Fenrir once more. "Sure," he quietly intoned before hefting his toolbox and joining Denzel on his determined march into the front lobby of the bar.

He came to a halt, staring with slightly widened eyes.

Cloud hadn't expected to see any others in the bar. At least, he'd not expected anyone until the sun had finally set for the evening.

Even as Denzel hopped onto a stool and greeted Tifa with a smile and a wave, the other two inhabitants of the establishment turned to set their gazes on Cloud. One seemed to sag visibly with relief. The other tensed slightly in the shoulders,

Brown eyes meeting hazel, the black-haired man nodded politely to his brunet compatriot. "Another time, then," he stated, his voice monotone and bland as he brought an end to whatever conversation had been taking place prior to Cloud's arrival within the bar proper. Slender hands gripped the bottom hem of a well-pressed black suit jacket, tugging it neat and straight even as those brow eyes narrowed slightly, their gaze not intentionally menacing but rather strict and professional. A swift pass of a hand to brush long, perfectly straight hair behind a stiff shoulder, the Wutian departed from the table he'd been sharing with his conversational partner.

Cloud stepped aside, giving Tseng a wide breadth as he departed Tifa's establishment. After the heavy door to _Seventh Heaven_ had swung shut, he let his stride draw him to the seat the Turk had abandoned.

"Reeve," he said with a nod of greeting.

"Ah, Cloud. It's good to have you back in town," the WRO Commissioner breathed, a genuine smile flitting across his lips.

"Trouble?" Cloud breathed, a brow arched as he put his toolbox down beside the chair he now occupied.

A thin laugh rattled Reeve's lungs as he dragged a hand with worn fingers through brown bangs touched with gray, dragging it away from his face for a moment before letting it flop lifelessly back into place and contenting himself with brushing his calloused fingers' pads over his goatee. "When is there not trouble?"

"A bad question, then," Cloud responded, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What was the issue between you and Tseng?"

Arching a brow himself, Reeve stared with critical hazel eyes at his blond companion, a frown turning his lips. "Have you not been watching the news?"

"No," Cloud simply replied, a shrug accompanying his statement.

"Ah. Then you have no idea about the attack on our oil refineries."

That statement caused Cloud's eyes to widen considerably. "Your oil refineries? Was anyone hurt?"

"Personnel casualties were minimal," Reeve grumbled, a light wave of his hand dismissing the concerned inquiry. "It's a huge production setback, though. Edge's dream of complete self-sufficiency and the world's departure from Mako-based energies have suffered quite the blow."

"They responsible?"

A series of rapid blinks preceded a frustrated sigh. "No, no. The Turks aren't responsible for the attack."

"And you can be certain of this," Cloud blandly observed, his eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips, his face screaming of disbelief.

Narrowing his eyes himself, Reeve snorted. "Yes. If the word came from their employer I'd not believe it for an instant, but Tseng and I had a decent relationship at Shin-Ra. Among my former colleagues, I trust him explicitly."

"And among your current colleagues?"

"He still has my trust, Cloud. Simply because you have difficulties with the Turks-"

Cloud's sigh bordered on a growl as he glanced away to hide his true opinion of the black-ops division of Shin-Ra's considerable empire.

"-doesn't mean that they are all lying, undermining bastards," Reeve continued without interruption. "Tseng happens to be quite the trustworthy fellow, once you have a good rapport with him."

"If you say," Cloud grunted noncommittally.

"He was simply informing me that his best Turk is unavailable to assist me in suppressing these increasingly frequent strikes against our expeditions and projects. It would seem that their primary employer has that Turk otherwise occupied. Believe what you will, but know that truly the Turks are as dedicated as I am towards seeing the WRO's goals ultimately realized."

Any comment Cloud might have derived was brought to a standstill in his throat as he regarded the man before him, his brain choosing that moment to kindly remind him that, indeed, Reeve was and very much still was an executive of Shin-Ra Electric Company.

Pressing his long fingers together, Reeve glowered at his fingertips. "I simply am worried about the overhead losses we're suffering at this time. I fear our expeditions for energy sources will have to be cut back."

"You mean cutting Barrett and Red's jobs?" Cloud inquired.

"Perhaps. They're already scheduled for an excursion to start two days from today that already has its funding slated, but following that-"

Tifa suddenly pulled a chair at the table, cleanly interrupting Reeve from continuing down his path of thoughts even as she placed a large tumbler of dark, high-quality bourbon before her friend. "It'll be a nice vacation for them, don't you think? Barrett will be able to spend some quality time with Marlene."

Cloud nodded in agreement even as Reeve hummed into his fingers, his brow furrowed as his mind wrapped itself around every issue he was facing.

"Actually, I was hoping to enlist some other aid while the Turks are unavailable."

"Sorry," Cloud cut sharply, "but I'm not available either."

Tifa and Reeve both stared at him, their eyes wide with shock.

"I just got back," Cloud stated, crossing his arms over his white tank top. "I want to spend some time home before you send me out on another task, no matter how much pay you're thinking of offering me."

As a warm smile took Tifa's lips, Reeve shook his head. "Of course, of course. Simply pondering aloud is all," he stated, his voice barely hiding his disappointment. "Perhaps you can assist me in the problem persists?"

"Look me up in a month. Maybe."

Tifa reached over and lightly smacked Cloud's arm. "Cloud, come on. Reeve's a friend."

"I know. But I want to get Fenrir up and running smoothly again before I go gallivanting around the world."

A smirk and a soft chuckle escaped the WRO Commissioner. "Understood, Cloud. Of course I'd not take advantage of your generosity or friendship. If all other avenues fail, only then will I seek your aid. Is that satisfactory?"

"It's fine," Cloud agreed with a shrug.

"Excellent," Reeve stated with a smirk even as he drained his tumbler in one long, satisfied draw.

Turning his attention away from his executive friend and off-times employer, Cloud arched a brow to Tifa. "Denzel?" he questioned.

"Raiding the refrigerator," Tifa stated. "He should be back out here soon."

"You calling?" Denzel all but chirped as he returned to the main room, a pair of sodas in his hands and a plate of sandwiches carefully balanced on his forearm. Making his way to the table, he thrust one can towards Cloud even as he carefully set the remainder of his load down.

"Thanks," Cloud stated. "Don't you think that's a lot of sandwiches, though?"

"Geez, Denzel. You didn't have to use up the whole loaf," Tifa chuckled.

"Why not? I'm hungry," the boy stated, his voice flat and static as he stared at the two he considered 'family.'

Reeve was the first to laugh, even as he set his emptied tumbler down. "On that note, I believe I have quite the mountain of work to get back to. Thank you for the excellent service, Ms. Lockhart. And Cloud, thanks for at least entertaining my requisition for your assistance."

"Of course, Reeve," Tifa answered even as Cloud responded to his statement with a simple nod.

As the businessman left the establishment and the small gathering enjoyed their lunch, afternoon slowly wound its way into evening. Soon enough Tifa was turning the sign in her window and bracing the front doors of _Seventh Heaven _open, Denzel was retreating into the room he regularly utilized when he chose to stay the night at the establishment, and Cloud was occupying a stool at the end of the bar, every sense he had in his possession sharpened and lit as he observed the steady ruckus of the night.

With nary an incident, he sat undisturbed and unmotivated to rise from his stool for the entirety of the _Seventh Heaven's _business hours. Before he knew it, he was helping Tifa mop the floors and wipe the tables clean of cigarette butts, rings of perspiration from warming glasses and splattered ketchup and stray french fries.

Warmth in his heart and comfort in his mind, Cloud ran a rag over yet another table, his eyes focused on the woman who verily danced with her mop, a cheerful song hummed from her long throat as she worked.

This, after all, was now his life. The day-to-day routine, the comforting repetition, the mediocrity of ordinary living without being intertwined with earth-shattering events and 'save the world' written over his every action. Working on his bike, eating with his family, watching the patrons of Tifa's bar to ensure they don't get too rowdy and helping her clean up before returning to the warmth of his bed.

Cloud, despite it all, was pleased. He held no resignation or regret over the choices he'd made and the paths he'd followed that had finally lead him to this destination.

With a content smile, he closed the bar's blinds and turned away from the lobby to follow Tifa upstairs and into slumber.

_-to be continued-_

* * *

><p>First off thanks to those who've already favoritedalerted this story! It does mean a lot. :) And as for review replies, I'm doing those on a person-by-person basis using that nifty feature fanfiction . net has now, so they won't be at the bottom of my stories anymore (unless a person reviews either anonymously, or not logged in so I have no other recourse). Spooky change, eh? So please review via logging in and what not, so I can reply personally! (if you don't have an account, go ahead and review anonymously – I don't mind, but you'll have to wait for the next chapter before a reply can be made. :) )

Anyway, thanks for continuing to read! Hopefully this chapter was adequate, even though it wasn't very exciting. The 'adventure' part of this little story WILL be coming up soon (as will the 'tragedy' bit, but that's even further down the line), so I simply ask that a little patience be had by all. Thanks again! :D


	3. Complex Solutions

Warning: there is an OC in this chapter. But no worries – she has little relevance to the rest of the story. :D What can I say? I don't like to throw OCs into the mix if I can avoid it (some of my GW fanfiction, though, found it actually central to the plot). This OC is here because there was no in-game character to handily fill the void as I desired it to be filled.

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 3  
><span>Complex Solutions<span>

_I'm finding it much more productive to keep this journal as I have these past few weeks._

_Taking quick notes on Post-It notes and culminating them into one massive entry once I actually have enough items for an entry to seem worthwhile is keeping me from classifying this activity as a waste of time. It also is leaving me plenty of pages to use this as a culmination journal – a 'dream journal' as Selphie previously suggested and a 'memory journal' as we'd already settled on – without too much waste._

_Since the last 'official' entry in this journal, I've plastered twenty-six notes into it, a few of which were deemed so unimportant that I've already thrown them away. It's been fourteen days since my last entry into this book. I have a contingent of SeeD currently in Esther, Zell and Quistis being among them, to oversee the transfer of materials from the Lunatic Pandora Laboratory to the Sorceress Memorial. Quistis has already messaged me to assure that things are going smoothly and that the perceived threat towards the sensitive test-equipment move is apparently nonexistent; Zell is understandably upset that he won't be able to put his junctions to use, and is getting on Quistis' last nerve if I'm to read her texts correctly. A young SeeD team has been sent to Trabia to fulfill the caravan-guard request, the amount of pay available having been insufficient to save me from Paperwork Hell (tm). They're well balanced, though, and should do fine against snow lions and gaylas._

_The offers for work have continually poured in, driving me to near insanity. Only Rinoa's presence, her hands massaging my shoulders and her kisses on my cheek in the afternoon when she has lunch with me keep me from ordering Nida to strafe certain nations so I can personally unleash Eden on them all and cackle like a manic idiot as they lay crumbled in pools of mushy flesh and blood._

_All right, I exaggerate. But it is driving me a little bonkers. I don't care if everyone around me professes that I'm a natural-born leader, I don't feel it myself. Ever decision I make it framed by worry and doubt and assurance that it's somehow going to fail. All I can rely on is the skill of my people to make the impossible possible and salvage what I'm certain are horrid command choices into something that can be seen as not entirely failing._

_But she does keep me calm and reassured. She's made herself something I can't see myself living without. Without her, I surely wouldn't be able to maintain what questionable sanity I still claim to have possession of. Because only her presence can drown out that diabolical banshee I am forced to deal with day in and day out that others would call a phone, bringing me to serenity and calm after I speak with people I'd rather never deal with and listen to requests for the impossible to be delivered for free._

_What part of 'mercenary organization' do people not comprehend, for crying out loud? You want our services, you pay for them. I may have a big heart as Rinoa professes, but I still expect my people to be compensated for their efforts. If your cause is philanthropic in nature I may give you a discount. If you're poor I'll work with you. But nothing's going to get me to offer my SeeDs' lives for free. Doesn't stop people from asking for just that, though._

_But they continue to hound me, no matter how blunt I am, no matter how short I am. So the work, it keeps rolling in. I swear that there's a song about this kind of thing from a musical Rinoa dragged me to not long ago._

_So now I've got my intelligence team investigating a perceived assassination plot against a Dollet ambassador that my away team of SeeD that are already there have confirmed might have an ounce of validity, a contingent of SeeD out to kill a wild behemoth that's been terrorizing a small settlement outside of Esther's capital city, and a contractor who services Balamb Garden sent with relocation allowances to draft an expense plan and project timeframe for Trabia Garden's restoration after they suffered an extreme setback in building with a collapsed pylon killing their foreman of construction._

_On to more inspiring Post-It notes. The 'work' ones make me cringe to look at them. But it is rather satisfying to crumble them up and throw them into the nearby waste bin._

_Rinoa's birthday went without a hitch. A note to myself that I'll hopefully remember to read in the future (namely next year) – she LOVES the Opera. Absolutely adores it. Seems there's something of culture in her, regardless of her attempts to shuck any and all tethers to her high-society family. Her birthday that was apparently 'the best she'd ever had' consisted of getting her dressed up in a fancy dress, letting her get me in a suit that I keep for rare occasions where something semi-formal is required and my SeeD dress uniform would be quite inappropriate, an overly expensive dinner at a restaurant that doesn't put prices on its menus, and an operatic show at the Balamb Theatre. Hopefully I don't forget how richly she rewarded me anytime soon, and that sitting through hours of men singing their own death throes rather than just toppling over and gurgling out their final breaths as they do in real life can in fact be well worth the tedium._

_Thank you, email alerts, for reminding me of it. Otherwise I don't think I ever would have remembered prior to the day of and been able to get tickets and reservations. Selphie did bop into my office to give me a reminder, but that was a whole thirty minutes before the close of business the day of Rinoa's birthday._

_I've finally decided on a best man, now that Rinoa's told me who her Maid of Honor is going to be. She has also decided on having no more than three total members in her bridal party, to my thorough and overwhelming relief (I suspect that she was able to sense my distress in having to match a huge wedding party and took considerable mercy on me). A friend of hers from Delling that she's held as a close confidant through mail and social networking since she left her father's house for Timber's revolutionary forces to 'show that man that she's serious and able to do everything herself' will be coming to Balamb and acting as her Maid of Honor._

_She's some girl named Delilah. From the picture Rinoa showed me online on the network she uses to keep in contact with her Galbadian friends, this girl is a brunette with pink tips died into her hair, enough earrings to reasonably assume she jingles when she walks, a curved silver nose ring accompanied by a barbell through her eyebrow, big brown eyes and rectangular glasses that make her look more smarmy and sassy than mum. According to her profile she's single and 'luvn' lif, bebe!' Further research using the Garden's expansive intelligence network showed that Ms. Delilah Silva stands just shy of 160cm and weighs 57kg. She was originally a classmate at the private school Rinoa was sent to as a child, lived three blocks down the road from the expansive Caraway manor, and had a lengthy record of truancies to accompany a rather average record of grades throughout her educational career. She has a short list of misdemeanor offences ranging from petty theft to traffic violations, unpaid parking tickets, trespassing and loitering that could likely to be attributed to being part of protests held illegally on privately owned properties. According to Rinoa, she was also the attendant of many slumber parties and all-time champ at Truth or Dare, and the first girl Rinoa ever kissed during a session of said game._

_That instantly drew my attention, but that's beside the point._

_Apparently this Delilah was a great planner of parties and if her profile on that social network held any truth or validity to it, held no political aspirations or opinions beyond 'rich ppl SUX and dont pai nuf taxes to help teh por that needs it,' was employed at a bookstore in downtown Delling with apparently no aspirations to do anything more grand with her life, her goals being to make it to 'supervisor' so she could 'get awai from register, omg' and to meet a man to 'hav a gud fling wit'._

_That description in of itself made me quite aware that I was going to be steering clear of any perceived political, world-view or economically based conversation around this woman. Surely she'd question Rinoa's judgment in choosing to marry me if she found out the lien of my opinions on such controversial topics._

_Given the spelling in her profile, my brain was ruling out anything to be conceivably intelligent conversation as well, but who am I to judge based on an internet profile? Rinoa has taught me to keep a somewhat open mind concerning such after I saw her write-up with its atrocious spelling and horrifying use of acronyms._

_But still, even as distasteful as I found the prospect of meeting and potentially having to converse with this person, it did rectify my first major dilemma._

_That settled it on Zell. And that decision did bring me comfort – he may be a loudmouth and something of a blundering child who can hardly get his brain out of comic books and into reality, but he's loyal to a fault and his enthusiasm, while natural and deep, is unfortunately easy to crush. He'd take not being my Best Man as being a personal affront, some slight towards him based on some ill-conceived imagining of my opinion of him and devaluing of the friendship he believes we have (and I silently acknowledge exists). He wouldn't see it as the most logical of solutions – if Rinoa had chosen Selphie, it would have instantly been Irvine selected as my Best Man, if only to keep the sniper from jealously drawing a bead on Zell's forehead during the required dances that take place at the reception. Plus Selphie having the opportunity to hang on Zell and see how red she could get him to turn? That would be a disaster._

_Also, as I'm going to have Irvine in my lineup opposite of Selphie come hell or high water (unless, of course, he refuses – then it's back to the drawing board), I've gotten Rinoa to agree that burgundy is out. She concurred that it'd look ridiculous on the auburn-haired cowboy._

_So that's two monumental tasks accomplished. Colors are decided, ivory and forest green being settled on. Let it be known by this writing in this journal that this is not negotiable and not subject to change in the future. Lineups are complete. Zell gets the misfortune of being paired with Rinoa's childhood friend (and won't that make a picture, her with her loudly dyed hair and multiple body accessories standing next to Zell with his prominent tattoos and spiked mane), which is certain to cause a good deal of discomfort on his part. Selphie and Irvine are naturally side-by-side, an arrangement I wouldn't see broken for anything. And Nida will be escorting Quistis. I already started a requiem for him and have an obituary saved on my work computer in the event that the Trepies get out of control._

_Caterers are still entirely undecided. Rinoa's first two choices, Gorgino's and Ferdinand's, have been brought to question by one simple factoid she'd forgotten about – where were we going to hold the ceremony and reception? If we were going to have everything maintained on Garden, it'd be a non-issue – but early on, we'd decided that there was no way in Hyne's most fiery hell that we were going to keep ourselves sequestered to this place._

_It may be home and it may forever hold a special place in my heart for being the only stable foundation in my life, but I don't love it enough to tether the memory of my wedding to it._

_So still, location is unknown. She's not keen on Delling due to it being her home town and base of many calamitous conflicts between herself and her father, whereas I find the city charming and enigmatic, quiet during the day to sooth my normally frazzled nerves yet flowing with nightlife that we can simply seep into and lose ourselves in. I'm not keen on Esther, the technological 'marvel' being more like a turquoise nightmare that hurts my eyes with its bright colors, my ears with its constant racket, and my head with its borderline insipid layout – she finds it 'fun' and 'pretty' and 'awesome, even if it's home to that creepy Odine.' Trabia is out for both of us – too cold. Rinoa was originally pondering a winter-wonderland wedding, standing in the snow in the dress of her dreams and framed by arching pine trees dusted by frost, before I told her she'd have to import the snow to a warmer climate and there was no way she was going to get me to freeze my ass off in a tux for pictures. She finally relinquished after I'd made her watch the weather channel._

_Winhill with its quiet, rustic charm called to me, but shunned her with its remoteness and silence. I'd laughingly suggested the Omega Ruins in Centra – she'd smacked me with a rolled up wedding magazine. We're both pondering the ups and downs of Timber and Balamb – both locations were calm and quiet enough to appeal to me, and modern and rambunctious enough (especially once the sun sets) to appease her. Both are of rather similar climes._

_All that has me concerned about Timber is their continued governmental unrest and strife. That and having to put up with more of the Forest Owls than those who would normally be able to make the trek from Timber to Balamb for the event. Really, seeing Zone doubled over in a corner whining about his stomach and having Watts 'sir' me to oblivion wasn't a prospect I was looking forward to. Unfortunately, regardless of where we'd decide to hold the ceremony, I was likely going to have to put up with both of them._

_Plus the uprising of monsters in the Obel Lake region had me a little worried. Rinoa had rolled her eyes when I voiced that concern and reminded me that SeeD would take care of the problem some time within the next nine and a half months, and everything should be perfectly safe._

_The more I write about it, the more I'm thinking we're going to choose Timber. She brightens every time she mentions it._

_While I may cringe at the prospect of seeing the Forest Owls again, she legitimately welcomes such a meeting. They are her friends, after all._

_And seeing as how I can just bring everyone I usually welcome association with onboard the Garden…_

_We'll still have to work out the details._

_Maybe a trip to Timber is in order. After all, I got that request for assistance a little over two weeks ago from that region, and my contact has yet to report to me (in fact, he seems to have dropped off the fact of the planet) – perhaps it's time for me to follow up personally._

_Surely Rinoa will want to come along… but that shouldn't be a problem. After all, it's just going to be a touch of reconnaissance, seeing how dire the threat truly is (clients have a penchant for exaggerating the severity of their issues, after all) before making a final decision on whether or not to draft a contract with Timber itself. There shouldn't be anything in the way of danger beyond what we can handle._

_After all, she is a Sorceress._

_And I am her Knight. She will always be defended, whether against monsters that would threaten her, people that wish to see all of her ilk dead or humanity itself – I would stand against them without fail, until the moment of my death._

_Which brings me to the part of this journal I haven't been looking forward to writing._

_I guess some of my brain is still rebelling against the validity of these claims or something, writing off the possibility of dreams being 'prophetic' simply because a person has a Guardian Force tethered to his or her brain as impossible and the practice of recording them as imbecilic. Something deep inside of me wants to refute Selphie's words of caution and potential wisdom as imagined ramblings and some sort of ill-conceived joke._

_I had dreams, to be certain. Some of them were apparently quite vivid. Normally I would have done the sensible thing – ignored them and allowed them to fade into the obscurity of the waking world as the nonsense they truly should be. After all, dreams are nothing more than the imaginings of the brain when it is receiving a slim amount of stimulation from the outside world. Sometimes they're the brain's attempts to figure out a dilemma that was bothering that brain upon the moment of sleep's oblivious darkness falling over the rest of the body. Usually they were just silly culminations of light and colors and caricatures of things in the real world._

_But I still wrote them down on Post-It notes and stuck them into my notebook. Having looked over what I'd jotted down, it's kind of surprising how many similarities there are between them._

_Irvine had said something. I think I wrote it down._

_Yup, sure had. "If her dream revolves around her, it seems almost probable. If she dreams the same thing more than once, it comes true in one way or another."_

_Well, these dreams didn't seem to revolve around me. Rather, I seemed entirely absent from them. And reading the contents of my dreams in the Post-It notes I've been reviewing, it almost seems… frightening._

_They revolve around Rinoa. And they all seem rather dark in nature._

_They all open the same way – a dark place, the features of the land blotted out by black clouds covering the moon and stars. A few flashes of light give definition to the environment; toppled trees frame an area devoid of life, a sharp spire from that pit of rocks and dirt stretching towards the heavens, the top of that spire severed from the rest of it and laying lamely upon its base, very nearly among the trees' roots that reached for that jutting tower of stone. Upon the opposing edge of that dead dark plain, a cliff erupted, dark figures standing upon its top._

_For some reason, it looked alien yet familiar, like I should recognize it despite it looking as if it had been ravaged. A circular bowl in the land, dark and black, surrounded with recently devastated woods. An unnatural spire that looked entirely out of place, but a cliff that looked as if it has existed in that location for ages, striding almost arrogantly into that bowl of death, shaped as a perfect peninsula into that oval pit._

_I'm still trying to figure out that aspect – certainly the fact that the landscape is always the same should give me some clue as to where this is and when it might be occurring, but I am continually drawing blanks when I try to ponder it._

_The people are always the same, too. The consistencies are unnerving._

_Upon the cliff, my friends. All worn, all tired, all bloodied and beaten and looking like they're only a bare centimeter from death. Irvine's long hair stained more ruby than usual, soaked with his blood. Quistis' delicate frame nearly doubled over itself as she pants in exhaustion. Selphie clinging to Irvine's coat, using him to keep herself upright as she holds her abdomen with her free arm, blood streaming down her cheery yellow jumper. Zell barely upright, his face and teeth stained red, his eyes almost unnaturally bright and tainted with adrenaline._

_In the pit below, a blond stranger clothed in black jeans and a white t-shirt that I know I've never met, beaten and bruised and glowering with oddly brilliant eyes towards the spire that juts from the ground. A huge sword's hilt is always in that stranger's right hand. Its edge is always upon the ground, the stranger incapable of finding the strength to heft the massive weapon._

_A black figure stands atop that spire, covered in shadow and indiscernible to my mind's eye. Squared shoulders suggest male, but it's so slight in build and average in height that it brings that assumption to question. Small and unassuming on that enormous pillar of stone, it's something that would be lost completely if not for the dark spot being prominent among the muted colors of the night that are brought to life by the licks of flame that light the fallen forest._

_Finally the remaining figure in this preemptive standoff presents himself, standing in the pit opposite of the first stranger that carries coloration. His stance is haughty and proud as he carries himself before that stranger, a smile twisting long lips under emerald eyes. He's clothed in black, tall and slender yet carries an aura of impossible strength, carrying a sword with his left hand whose blade is as long as his own body. A fall of pale hair flows in a wind that brushes over the decimated land, flapping like a soft, lightly colored flag lit only by sparks of energy that erupt from the newly killed land, flames that dance in those fallen trees._

_In every one of those dreams, two spires suddenly shoot into being from that pit even as the two strangers within that pit collide, swords lashing without control. The spire the mysterious figure in black is upon shudders and crumbles, a wave of black dust exploding from it. My companions are scattered as magic (an Ultima spell?) slams into the cliff. I never see what happens to them as they're enveloped in dust and dirt, fogged from sight._

_That dark figure lands on top of one spire, its top falling as something long, silver and cumbersome lashes forward and slides it cleanly away._

_The opposing spire's top simply disintegrates as a similarly dark form lands atop of it, the new arrival's slender and smaller figure lighting it in stark contrast of that which stood upon the rocky tower that was demolished at the commencement of the strangers' battle._

_Sparks light from the dead pit below those two upon their spires, erupting from two massive swords colliding with one another. The battle between the strangers rages, each of them seeming to press towards a spire. Again and again the two meet in my dreams, neither relenting, neither giving, each grinding their teeth and snarling as they attempt to reach their destination and struggle to keep their opponents away from their respective charges._

_Suddenly, the slight figure lights up in my dreams. White wings spread, lighting the land, illuminating everything above and below and around the spire upon which it stands. Blue knit fabric flutters in the breeze that carries loosened pristine feathers into the night sky. Pale skin, its soft alabaster sheen highlighted by black skin-tight clothing, shines in the darkness that surrounds it._

_Even now, hour upon hour after I awakened, I can still see my dream's imagery in my head._

_Rinoa, her wings spread, her kind face twisted in anguish, her doe eyes glowing with some unnatural poison, her hand thrust forward and magic burning her fingers._

_The dark figure across from her, the only feature not lit by the magnificent illumination of her pure Sorceress' wings, always lifts a hand, the magic that she hurls careening off an instantly raised Shell spell of unmatched power. The spell she hurls rapes the land around them, blasting into the remains of wood and pit, sending rocks hurtling into the air and flames springing from the dead forest. Every sound is enveloped in every dream I experienced by the powerful explosion as it careens through the planet's atmosphere._

_No simple Shell could fend off the spells of a Sorceress. That would have had me writing off my dream as stupid imaginings if not for what always follows…._

_Wings._

_Silver wings bursting from the back of her opponent, soft and long and full and shining as the light cast by Rinoa's presence illuminates them yet failing to cast any light of their own._

_A figure in shadow, gunmetal wings stretched, ominously standing before Rinoa with its hand extended towards her._

_Magic would envelop my dreams, explosions of what I could only assume were colliding Meltdowns of enormous might blinding me to everything that could be occurring. The clouds would be stripped away. The red eye of the moon would glower upon the land. The stars would hide in the black of the night. The combatants below would continue to strive to reach the two whose magic made the very planet shudder and cry in pain._

_I just realized what I am watching in my sleep._

_A Sorcery duel between two of Hyne's chosen, their Knights attempting to reach their charge's opponent and put an end to it._

_Rinoa cries out in my dreams every time I see this image, her wings folding for a moment before she takes to the air and releases her pinwheel, striking the ground at the feet of her silver-winged opponent and channeling a Tornado spell through it to strike that figure without awareness. Silver feathers fly errantly to blend with white, reflecting the piercing light that those pure feathers cast._

_The two swordsmen, both strangers to me, clash violently even as Rinoa and her opponent take to the air, wings beating mightily upon the wind and the moon itself bursting into crimson tears as they draw their power from Hyne himself._

_Now it strikes me._

_Who is the man defending Rinoa?_

_Where am I?_

* * *

><p>Cloud wiped the sweat that marred his brow away with the bare back of his left hand, his right still gripping his ratcheting socket wrench. His eyes narrowed as he looked over the state of his project, taking in all that he had accomplished over the long hours of the day.<p>

Fenrir was complete at long last. It had taken Cloud five long days of continuous work to finally repair every long hour's worth of damage the road had imparted on his trustworthy bike. Every bolt had been tightened, every gasket replaced, every fluid system had been flushed and refilled, every hose replaced and clamp tightened. The bike, a few smears of oil and sweat marring its reflective surface and standing in stark contrast with its restored mechanical perfection, leaned heavily on its kickstand.

Dropping his tool into his toolbox and grabbing a stray white rag, Cloud twisted it between his fingers and sighed as he wiped the grime and oil from his hands. While satisfied that he'd completed his task, he was similarly oddly disappointed that it had been brought to its terminus so quickly.

After all, Fenrir's condition was the primary excuse he was set on utilizing to keep Reeve Tuesti and his demands at bay. If he didn't have a perfectly functioning motorcycle, there was no way he would be sent away from his home to run whatever errand or investigate whatever problem the WRO Commissioner was to set upon him.

Still, the prospect of leaving his faithful companion on the road untouched and silently suffering with its problems had unnerved Cloud more than the prospect of being sent out onto the road for a few weeks to earn some pay and solve Reeve's issues did. It was an affront to him to keep his bike in poor condition simply to accommodate his desire to remain home. And while Tifa would certainly appreciate his continued presence at the _Seventh Heaven_, he couldn't in good conscious keep a less than perfect bike under the tarp in her alley.

After all, if any reason for him to swiftly depart the warmth of his home arose, he wanted to ensure he could put miles between him and whatever issue had forced his departure without complications. Faint memories of the long and rough ride to the Forgotten City would nag at his mind – if Fenrir had not been prepared for the road, he'd never have been in time to rescue Marlene from the clutches of the remnants that had taken her from her family. There was no guarantee that Vincent would have successfully reclaimed her either, the stalwart gunslinger never answering questions about that night directly and simply alluding to the fact that he'd been tracking those who had interactions with the Turks he seemed to hold odd relations with rather than intending to rescue the kids from their ill fate.

"Once a Turk, always a Turk, eh?" Cloud mused to no one in particular even as he finished cleaning his hands and gave his brow one final once-over to clear himself of sweat and mire. Shaking his head, he lightly gripped his bike's handlebar.

It was time to give Fenrir a rundown, to push his vehicle through its paces and ensure that it was indeed ready to go should any need for it arise.

Straddling his monstrous machine, his loose black jeans comfortably shifting without him having to arrange anything into place, Cloud allowed a small smile to take his lips as he turned the key and listened to the mighty motor rumble to life. A few angry shudders, a profession of dissatisfaction with remaining stagnant for so very long, roared through the motorcycle as it spurt a puff of soft gray exhaust from its curved piping and roared with its accelerated idling revolutions in the calm afternoon air.

Tilting the bike to kick its stand back and out of the way with one boot-clad toe, Cloud set his fingers tightly on the handlebar brakes before lifting one foot to set it lightly upon the clutch. His free fingers pried his sunglasses out of the sagging front pocket of the loose long-sleeved black button-up shirt Tifa had draped across his shoulders when the chill of the desert's evening air had started to whistle through the alley, his black tank top he'd adorned himself with that morning being less than sufficient in the task of keeping chill-derived bumps from racing over his arms.

While those sunglasses wouldn't be necessary for long, the setting sun cast murderously bright rays that reflected off the buildings with an unerring propensity for blinding drivers. Cloud preferred to be able to see, any direction he would have chosen being noteworthy for poor vision – either he would be facing the sunset when he abandoned the alley he normally parked in, or he would be facing the huge shimmering glass skyscrapers of downtown with their mirror finish.

A twist of the throttle, a growl of impatience and a slight easing off the brakes that let the bike sneak towards the promise of open road, Cloud nodded. "Ready, Fenrir?"

Throaty and deep, the bike howled with power and perfection as Cloud finally released the brake and twisted the throttle hard, its front tire lifting momentarily off the ground as it surged towards freedom. Sliding effortlessly through the scant evening traffic, weaving between the few small delivery trucks that used the roads, the privately owned cars only the rich could afford to operate and the expansive foot-traffic that always occupied Edge's asphalt rivers, Cloud chased the setting sun with warm light on his face and cool wind whipping through his loose clothes.

Running smooth and muted, Fenrir's tires snarled along the city streets as it maintained the steady and conservative pace Cloud always attempted to maintain within Edge's limits. The engine growled as it warmed, its revolutions adjusting automatically with its operations.

Then they hit open road.

With an exhilarating turn of the throttle, Cloud crouched low over his bike, his body fitting seamlessly along Fenrir's gently sloped tank. His loose long-sleeved shirt whipped mercilessly along his back as the magnificent machine between his life roared with unfettered joy as its might was finally unleashed and its huge tires chewed miles from the road it traveled over. Blasting past the dusty and forgotten signs that warned of the termination of the paved road, indicating the true edge of civilization was about to be superceded, the bike maintained its grip even as concrete gave way to the stone-hard packed dirt of the desert itself.

Twisting effortlessly along the road that had been swallowed by time, gentle bends taking him between huge stone mountains that thrust from the unforgiving lifeless lands, Cloud lost himself in the exhilaration of pure, unadulterated freedom.

It wasn't until the final rays of the sun struck something mechanical that he brought his ride to a screeching halt, a sudden turn of the handlebar and a lean to his left sliding Fenrir's mass sideways and a hastily dropped foot keeping man and machine from dropping onto their sides on the desert's rapidly cooling ground.

Wrenching his glasses from his eyes, Cloud squinted to sharpen his vision and peered into the sky.

The black helicopter soared overhead, its blades thundering through the light winds that raced between the desert's mountains with ease as its tilt propelled it with impressive speed towards the town Cloud had been unintentionally fleeing.

As it rocketed past him, Cloud felt his eyes widen.

There was no mistaking the red logo that graced the flying machine's tail, easily seen despite the whirl of the helicopter's secondary rotor.

"Looks like our ride's been cut short," Cloud muttered, grabbing the bike's throttle and letting it surge with rage towards the distant town, attempting to race the black stain upon the darkening night sky that had already far outpaced him.

He had no illusory dreams of beating that flying mechanism back to Edge. However, knowing which organization owned it, he wanted to stay as close as possible.

The logo of Shin-Ra Electric Company still drew a quake of distrust and concern from Cloud's heart. While the remnants of that company seemed to be sided with those who would restore the Planet and didn't make any overt motions towards betraying those who, as Cloud thought rather foolishly, imparted trust onto them, Cloud still refused to trust any of them so far as he could throw them. After all, as recently as a year ago, Rufus had been involved with gathering a sliver of Jenova's remains – he was in fact keeping it from the remnants who sought it, who dreamed of completing themselves with the genetic material they were lacking and completing their Reunion with not only Jenova but all who had been infected with her taint through the caress of a sullied Lifestream – but he had brought that container of flesh to Edge, hiding it among the innocent population of the world's largest city and placing all of their lives at risk. Why he'd made such a decision Cloud couldn't begin to fathom, but it had resulted in millions of gil in damages and countless lives lost, traumatized and ruined.

While Deepground's resurrection of Omega Weapon couldn't be attributed directly to the remains of the Shin-Ra Empire, Cloud had always groused over the Shin-Ra heir's lack of assuming responsibility for his company's actions. After all, the man hadn't bothered showing his face, and his infamously diabolical and interfering Turks were nowhere to be seen.

The bike's smooth ride suddenly changed pitch, tires howling as they hit concrete rather than nature's perfect and dusty highway. The helicopter had long since vanished into the night, but Cloud had pegged its trajectory as taking it directly into Edge.

As he finally rounded the last bend that stood between him and home, he nearly dumped his bike as he narrowly avoided careening into a stopped truck. Dropping both feet to the ground, Fenrir dropping into a lazy idle, Cloud stared at the traffic jam that was slowly alleviating itself and the central cause of the slowdown.

A groan of dismay rattled Cloud's lungs as he wiped disbelief from his eyes with night-chilled fingers. He now knew exactly whom he'd been chasing.

After all, no other man would land a helicopter right in front of _Seventh Heaven_, leaving it as close to the curb as it could get without knocking its massive primary rotor into buildings or lampposts.

Taking a moment to gloomily impart a smidgen of unsolicited respect for the pilot's skill as Cloud observed that bare inches stood between the machine's rotor and the front façade of the bar it was stationed before, he swung Fenrir into a lazy arch and slid into the alley he parked in.

This time, he didn't leave First Tsurugi in the storage compartment that held it when he took to the road. Rather he drew every last segment of his weapon from his vehicle, taking time to snap every superfluous blade into place and ensure the weapon was tightly assembled. Grabbing its massive sheath from the chamber it was normally stored in when he rode, he strapped it onto himself and slid the fully assembled sword into place before pressing the button upon Fenrir's dash to close those storage chambers and withdrew his key to his bike. Stuffing that key into his jeans' front left pocket, he took a stray minute to throw his tarp over his bike and strap it into place before turning his attention to the bar.

It would seem to the uncaring eye to be an ordinary night in _Seventh Heaven_, the usual suspects in the usual stools and booths drinking the usual drinks despite the fact that a massive helicopter was sitting at the curb right outside of the front door. Shaking his head in complete disbelief, Cloud reflected momentarily on how remarkable it was that people could ignore such chaotic and unordinary events in their day-to-day lives.

In fact, only one person commented on him coming in armed to the teeth with a sword larger and heavier than most of the men who occupied the bar's seats – the only reason the waitress Tifa had hired months ago said anything was that she'd been inadvertently hit with the prominently jutting hilt of the weapon. "Cloud, please watch where you're sticking that thing!" she'd playfully reprimanded before squealing and turning on the man who'd taken her inattention as an opportunity to smack her firmly on her butt.

A disparaged sigh escaped Cloud as he moved past her. Instead of reflecting on the odd patrons to Tifa's establishment, he instead set his focus on the bar's massive counter instead.

He found himself looking straight into crystalline blue eyes that bordered on green in the poor lighting, reflecting the sickly colors that poured from the nearby jukebox. Cloud's frown stood in remarkable contrast to the man at the bar's twisted smile.

Tifa emerged from the back of the bar when Cloud next blinked, her warm eyes surprisingly stern. "Don't you two even think about bringing this to blows," she warned even as she set a plate with a greasy pile of fries in front of the redhead she was serving.

"Wouldn't think of it, zo to," the man stated, his voice slick as snake oil and cold as ice even as he opened the unfettered jacket of his wrinkled suit and drew a massive gun from a previously hidden holster. Placing it on the bar with a loud and resounding thump, he cast her a smirk that sang of cocky assurance. "See? I'm unarmed," he all but laughed.

Walking to the bar, Cloud glowered at the man who'd piloted the helicopter he'd been chasing. Drawing his weapon from its sheath, he leaned it cautiously against the dark wooden counter, keeping it in easy reach.

He knew better than to assume the Turk at his side was completely unarmed. The EMR he was famous for wielding with surprising precision wasn't in plain sight.

"Any particular reason you're here?" Cloud opened, the lack of warmth in his voice reflecting his lack of pleasure in being faced with his unexpected companion at the bar. "Or did you just decide that blocking traffic with your helicopter was a good idea tonight?"

"Got plenty of reasons," Reno replied, his smile seeping from cocky and pleased to manic and sinister even as his eyes narrowed and he dug through his fries with thin fingers. "Only a few pertaining to you, though."

"Reno," Tifa groaned, her hand sliding to her forehead to rub it and fend of exasperation.

"Just get to the point," Cloud gruffly stated, his own eyes narrowing with distrust.

"Yo, what's with the hostility? Not like I've murdered anyone just by walking in here," Reno stated, his teeth gritting behind his grin.

"You don't seem far off from doing just that," Cloud snarled under his breath.

"C'mon. I'm a reformed man." Placing a hand holding fries over his heart, Reno let his eyes close as a seemingly innocent expression took his face. "Ever since the fall of Shin-Ra, I've been a much less despicable person. Hell, I hardly kick Dons off of cliffs for kicks anymore."

"Point, Reno?" Cloud interrupted.

Chuckling softly, the redhead ran his other hand's long fingers through fire-colored hair. "Point is not to be discussed now. It's time to drink beer and enjoy greasy food, Strife. My business with you can wait until closing."

"Must it wait that long?" Tifa inquired, leaning against the bar.

"Afraid so," Reno said with a lazy shrug. "Got something against eavesdroppers, even if it's not company-damaging conversation, zo to."

Cloud drummed his fingers impatiently, glowering as the Turk ignored him and ate his fries.

"Relax, Cloud," Tifa softly muttered into his ear, leaning across the bar and lightly giving his shoulder a squeeze. "He's not going to get away with anything with us right here, you know."

"Right," Cloud replied, his eyes remaining firmly set on the wily man at his side. "Doesn't mean I'm going to lower my guard around him, though."

"He's just a Turk," Tifa stated, her voice bordering on laughter.

Cloud shuddered as he noticed Reno's eyes in the reflecting mirror behind the bottles of liquor that lined the bar's wall opposite of the lobby door, those pale blue irises mocking and sinister and laughing as if reveling in the fact that the notoriety of the organization to which he belonged almost seemed forgotten and irrelevant in the modern world.

Every nerve in Cloud's body was on fire as Reno's every motion was made with precision that spoke of battle-hardened proficiency, every move calculated with the cold, bloodless tactician's perfected techniques. Those fingers gripping fries? Strength moderated, never making an unnecessary motion. Those eyes that almost seemed to be careless as they roved the room? Carefully observing every last motion that took place around them. Those ears that seemed deaf to any objection of his presence? Keeping careful track of Cloud, listening to the barest shift in the fabric he wore to give away any movement he'd make. Those feet tapping errantly on the metal ring at the base of his bar stool? Prepared to immediately burst into motion, excess energy being tapped away to suppress the urge to do whatever it was Reno's twisted mind was suggesting to him.

Tifa may have forgotten, but Cloud never could – the man at his side was a Turk, a murderer contracted by Shin-Ra to silence any and all opposition that would stand against the company, a spy hired to infiltrate any institute that would present itself as a viable threat to Shin-Ra's monopolistic grip on the world's economy, a tactical genius who operated alone to accomplish any goal the leadership of his organization would impart onto him.

While they seemed inept when faced off with all those years ago, Cloud never dropped his caution. Reno had successfully single-handedly faced off with Cloud, Barret and Tifa, surviving despite their efforts to kill him and still successfully dropping Sector 7's support plate regardless of their efforts to stop the event from occurring. He had lead them to Don Corneo, their efforts to rescue Yuffie coinciding with Reno and Rude's decision to get their newest Turk back from the drug lord's grip and making them temporary allies – Cloud had watched the man laugh in the Don's face before stamping his fingers so firmly under his foot that Cloud was certain they'd broken, Reno's smirk and profession that he simply didn't care about the Don's or his own fate chilling. Even when Reno had faced off with Cloud when Rufus had called him to his hiding place in a vain attempt to recruit his assistance, when Cloud had locked Reno out of the room, Reno's subtle words and laughing demeanor hinted of a playful disparity with his boss' goals – Cloud always held a niggling doubt in his heart that Reno and Rufus were seeing eye to eye at that point, and that Reno had simply been playing them both as fools, his boss in his support of his ideals and attempting to quietly subvert Rufus' plans, and Cloud in his acknowledgement of him as a viable opponent, playing with him rather than taking any threat seriously.

All that he'd seen of the Turk coupled with Zack Faire's recollections of how Reno and Rude had all but cleared Sector Eight of all of Shin-Ra's malfunctioning security robots and Genesis Clones, how Reno had laughingly recounted the battles as a game he and Rude were playing and how in retrospect maybe it wasn't as dull and boring as it had seemed in the heat of the moment, kept Cloud's caution at a safely elevated status.

Those hard crystal eyes kept their gaze on Cloud as well, almost seeming dissatisfied that not everyone was writing off the potential threat he presented.

As patrons slowly started filtering out of the bar once last call was announced, Reno finished his fourth tall glass of beer with a long, satisfied draw. "Gotta stay mostly sober, zo to. After all, I need to return the helicopter this morning," he said with a smirk.

"I still don't understand why you couldn't do that before coming to the bar," Tifa stated blandly, glancing over from the opposite end of the counter where she was beginning to gather partially emptied bowls of beer nuts and drained glasses stained by slack lips and loose tongues.

"Because I didn't want to be tasked with anything else before I could have some beer and fries," Reno stated with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Cloud narrowed his eyes even as Tifa helplessly laughed, her head hanging in disbelief. "You are ridiculous, Reno," she observed with a giggle.

"Maybe, maybe," he replied, his eyes closing and his lips parting with a laugh.

Cloud glowered, watching carefully, knowing how observant those eyes had been right before their lids had drifted shut.

"So Strife, you mind stepping in the back for a few minutes? Got something to discuss with you, after all. Otherwise my happy ass would be making its way back to its nice, warm bed in its nice, warm apartment."

"Sure thing," Cloud cautiously acknowledged, reaching for his sword.

"Don't you dare," Tifa warned.

"He has his EMR," Cloud replied.

"Bullshit!" Reno snorted. "If you wanna do a pat-down, it's fine by me. My weapon's in plain sight on the counter."

"Where is it, then?"

Giving a casual wink, Reno shrugged. "Left it in the helicopter. Stuffed under the pilot seat, zo to. Keeps the seat from rattling and provides spark to the rotor when it stalls out seein' as how the distributor wire's shot – Rufus decided to toss me the keys to the bitchy machine like a dumbass. Thing needs to be serviced badly. Just don't got the time personally to do it, what with the boss running me ragged."

"Right," Cloud huffed, his voice reflecting his disbelief.

"Cloud," Tifa fired off in warning.

Groaning softly, Cloud willed his fingers to release the hilt of First Tsurugi. Keeping his cautious eyes on Reno, he followed the Turk as he rose and playfully stuffed his hands into his pockets, stomping his way to the service door that lead into the establishment behind the bar's proper lobby.

Walking into the kitchen and away from Tifa's sight, Cloud immediately scowled. "Now what is it you want?"

"Woah, chill the rage, Strife," Reno instantly bit, his eyes narrowed and hostile. "I'm not here to pick a fight with you, zo to."

"Then why exactly-"

Reno thrust a finger right into Cloud's face, leaning over slightly as if to emphasis his greater height much to Cloud's annoyance. "If you'd shush, I'd explain. So why don't you just squash all this latent anger and let me get to the point?"

"Fine," Cloud huffed even as he walked to the kitchen's centrally placed dining room table and grabbed a chair. Turning it, he straddled its back and took a seat.

"Alright," Reno breathed softly. "So, you bothered looking north any time within the last week?"

Cloud looked at the Turk blandly.

"I'll take that as a no. Otherwise you might know why I was coming back from that direction, neh?"

"Point?"

"Getting there," Reno huffed even as he seated himself opposite Cloud, pulling a chair and seating himself upon it normally. "So, Strife. Being connected and all to Shin-Ra's darkest little experiments, you been having any problems? Surges of pain? Flashes of Jenova-driven green? Hearing her voice? You know, the usual stuff Tifa tells me you suffer from?"

With a scowl, Cloud grit his teeth.

"C'mon. Serious here."

Crossing his arms across the top of the chair, Cloud ran a hand over soft blond spikes of hair. "Not recently."

"Not in the last six days, I'm willing to bet," Reno observed.

A startled blink and a small, involuntarily released gasp escaped from Cloud before he could mediate his actions.

"Thought so. Coincides with some of the weird readings I got outta North Crater."

"North Crater?" Cloud repeated, his voice quiet.

"Yup. Lots of activity there. There was an explosion six days ago – Rufus sent me to investigate, worried that something was erupting from it again. Hell, last time we got anything on our meters we placed up there, we found a chunk of alien and three bitchy little Sephiroth-remnants."

A worried breath rattled Cloud's lungs as he looked past the Turk to the window behind him. Now that he focused, he noticed something out of the ordinary – beyond the darkness of the desert was a tiny trail of green, nearly lost among the starlight, snaking towards the heavens. "What…?"

"It ain't the Lifestream," Reno hinted with a shrug. "And it ain't stable, either."

"What were you doing there?" Cloud finally asked after a long period of silence past, mako-infused eyes staring into the desert sky outside of _Seventh Heaven's_ back window and crystalline blue eyes watching him with all the compassion and interest of a scientist watching a laboratory animal.

"We got indications of activity immediately after something crashed into North Crater. Energy spikes were going off the charts. Then whatever it was that crashed was immediately sucked back away from the Planet by whatever force that thrust it here in the first place. It seems to have left a bit of a conduit, though, providing a path for energy to seep from our Planet to wherever it is whatever it was went." A careless shrug moved Reno's shoulders as he folded his fingers together, pressing his nose against his entwined firsts. "Rufus sent me to investigate how deep the damage to the Planet is – whether or not it punched straight into the Lifestream, and whether or not the Lifestream is being pulled from the Planet itself. After the whole Omega incident and the revelation that the Weapon would kill the planet by sucking the Lifestream right out of it came to light, he's been rather… how shall we say…"

"Nervous?" Cloud filled in.

"More like paranoid. The boss has invested a lot into repaying civilization for his crimes against the Planet. He doesn't really want to see it destroyed at this point, zo to."

"So… what did you find?"

Leaning back, his hands falling apart and resting casually on the table, Reno snorted. "Punched right through what little opposition there was to directly interfacing with the Lifestream, alright. Hole's damned deep. Thing is, I don't think it's Lifestream that's being pulled – color and energy signal's all wrong."

"Then what is it?" Cloud inquired.

Narrowing his eyes, the Turk set a cool glower on Cloud. "I'd like to know that myself. I can't get the 'copter down there – the winds get too turbulent, and with the energy bursts that flare up from time to time, it's too dangerous to get that persnickety, broken-down piece of shit down there. And be damned if I'm crawling down the side of North Crater – I don't' get paid enough for that shit. To know exactly what's going on down there, we'd need to get some data from the lowest point reachable – I've got portable equipment that I could set up, but I can't get down there."

"You mean you won't go down there."

A sneer turned thin lips. "Maybe."

"So where do I come in to all of this?" Cloud questioned, his voice clipped. "You wouldn't come here unless you wanted something from me."

"Right on, zo to. As said, I ain't goin' down there."

"What makes you think I will?"

Reno smirked. "Because you care about what's going on in North Crater, unlike me. I could give two shits about anything up there. Jenova, pulled from the Lifestream and getting ready to ravage the planet? Fuck if I care. Sephiroth, pulled from the Lifestream and getting ready to use this rock as a space jalopy? Whatever. I don't have anything to lose."

Cloud paled significantly.

"But you do, don't you?" Leaning over in his seat, Reno stared over Cloud's shoulder towards the door that lead to the bar's lobby. He smirked, his expression cold as they both listened to Tifa's voice softly humming even as she tasked herself with cleaning up.

"You-"

"Don't care," Reno interrupted. "You, on the other hand, do. Because if the Calamity of the Sky comes back down to us and drags her perfect 'son' with her, you have everything to lose. Your home, your friends, your family…."

Cloud gulped even as Reno rose from the table, going to the door that segregated the bar and the kitchen during normal business hours and opening it a slight crack. As Tifa walked by, a mop in her hand, the Turk turned and smiled, his expression nauseatingly at ease and chilled.

"Everything."

A slow exhalation escaped Cloud's lungs, a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding shaking itself free of his ribcage.

"I'll see you at the north edge of town tomorrow afternoon 'round two-ish, zo to. Don't bother with the bike – it won't fit in my 'copter."

Cloud offered only silence as Reno rose and let himself out through the establishment's back door.

_-to be continued-_

* * *

><p>BTW, the bit about Reno and Rude clearing Sector Eight comes from Last Order, namely the final bits that actually cross with Crisis Core. They indeed made a game of wiping out Genesis Clones and security bots, pitting speed and agility against sheer strength.<p>

Speed won, by the way. Because Reno is an underappreciated badass. :D Hence why I hate Advent Children – they made him into nothing but comic relief. I like my Reno to be a wicked skeezeball, as cold and calculating as a Turk should be. :P


	4. Goodbye

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 4  
><span>Goodbye<span>

_It's been a little less than a week since my last journal entry. However, enough has occurred that I felt another one was warranted. Not that it's been an especially eventful six days, but there's been a lot of progress made._

_Rinoa and I are currently in Timber. She seemed amused at first that I'd brought my journal with me, but after I let her skim the entries I'd made about our wedding she's much more accepting and less critical of my decision to bring my memory crux along for the ride._

_After all, there's no telling what I'm going to lose. I still completely recall the chill in the air when I sat on the beach of Centra, staring at the waves as I waited for Sis to appear, cold despite the sun's rays beating upon my body and the sweat of exertion still tainting my flesh from my brief run of escape from Matron's care. But I couldn't recall where Quistis and Zell were until I read my own journal entry to remind myself that I had indeed sent them to Esthar and they were still overseeing the material transfer._

_It's frustrating. Very frustrating. To know that my memories are all but held hostage by the creature in my head, being selectively eradicated by whatever whimsical will the apocalyptic destroyer that inhabits my brain has, is enough to bring me to the brink of insanity. I've been pondering why some memories are stripped and others left – the beast inside my head seems quite sadistic at times, focusing on stripping my mind of my more cheerful memories and leaving depreciation and sadness untouched. At times I wonder – will she take enough from my mind that I cease to function? That I cease to have a perception of who I am and where I come from? That I, for all intents and purposes, cease to be who I am at this moment and become nothing more than Eden's puppet, driven more by her will than my own?_

_Rinoa is more than capable of seeing the strife and agonizing self-analysis that floods my mind. Our connection, the powerful bond between Sorceress and Knight, lets her be privy to far more than I had thought possible in days long past._

_Fortunately, she has never betrayed my trust, never bothered looking in those dark recesses that I truly wish to retain buried and untouched. She does respect my wishes for certain aspects of my past to remain unseen, despite her insisting that discussion of some of these past subjects would be healthy for my psyche. It's not that I don't trust her with my past, it's just that my lack of trust in general makes me nervous and edgy about anyone, even the woman I trust and love most dearly, seeing what I have buried in the back of my mind._

_I don't stop her from looking at the recent past, though. She is integral to most of it._

_Someday, perhaps, I'll be able to trust deeply enough that I can let Rinoa's touch rove wherever it wishes without fear quaking my heart. I truly do wish that such a day can come to pass – Rinoa knows that, and finds comfort in that steadfast dream. She's never given me a hard time about hiding from her, ever since she let our bond dredge a few inklings of my history from the darkness in my mind – she kindly backed away, finally respectful of the fact that complete and total openness wasn't presently feasible._

_Besides, the fact that this bond isn't really two-way, that as her Knight I can't peer into her mind and read everything that's buried as she can with mine but rather can only detect her elevated emotional states keeps her honest about when she peers and what she gleans – she understands my lack of comfort with the inequality we innately have with this and makes every effort to accommodate me._

_But as she's privy to most of what flits over the surface of my mind, she can comfort me, and she does with regularity. Even now she's rubbing my shoulders (and stop reading over my shoulder, damn it. Give me privacy. Thank you) and caressing my anxiety with a calm that I could never possess for myself._

_Anyway, why we're here – I still haven't heard from my contact. It's been close to a month since I asked him to look into the supposed rise in the monster population around Obel Lake. I've been haggled by the Timber Senator who made the initial inquiry into hiring our forces on more than one occasion, emphatically insisting that the small militia Timber has to defend its interest weren't capable of handling their own problems that the monster issue was truly beyond their ability to suppress. And since I refused to draft a contract prior to knowing what I'm about to risk my SeeDs' lives with, I really had no choice – another investigative source had to go in._

_Plus seeing as how Rinoa and I were seriously considering Timber for our wedding, it might as well be me._

_We should be heading out some time tomorrow to patrol Obel Lake. While she's a bit miffed that we're mixing business and pleasure, Rinoa's been understanding, her initial resentment of our escape from the Garden being a convenient cover for getting work accomplished having faded into nothing but appreciation for the chance to accompany me. At least she finally understands that I'm taking one hell of a liability risk by bringing her with me – if she were to fall into harm, her father could ream Balamb Garden for every hot gil it's worth._

_But coming here without her? I think I'd rather suffer the onslaught of lawyers coming for my money rather than the rage of my fiancé coming for my soul for daring to leave her behind while I go gallivanting around in Timber._

_Today was dedicated to roving the capital city that the region derives its name from. Thankfully I was able to convince Rinoa that a reunion with the Forest Owls could wait until tonight._

_We checked out five places today. Two different chapels, two restaurants, one park with a huge gazebo and a nearby auditorium. And so do our differences really start to shine._

_Rinoa's been bright-eyed and cooing about the first chapel we visited all day. It's huge, a shrine that once stood as a pillar of worship to a forgotten God of the distant past, gloriously maintained and painted pure white. Huge stained-glass windows create a cacophony of colors at all hours of the day, stretching from barely a foot above the ground to the beams that hold the roof nearly twenty feet overhead. Visions of twisted vines, roses, angels with brilliant halos and huge multicolored wings, rays of power seeping from white clouds and castles primly placed upon mountain tops, vast oceans' waves with leaping sea creatures and the like race over thick red carpeting, cast from those glass panes by the passing sun. A huge golden relief dominates the front of the chapel, angels holding aloft the day's brilliant star with the different phases of the moon spread under their feet, stars dotting the tips of stretching wings._

_She's been going on and on about how beautiful it would be with dark green ribbon running along the pews, how glorious she would look in a long chapel-length train, and how many flowers we could stuff onto the elevated platform that stretched under the massive angelic relief._

_Needless to say, the second chapel didn't impress her – it was far less grandiose, a smaller and more humble testimony to the God of today, plain and simple in comparison with the gaudy monstrosity we'd visited earlier. The floors were simple hardwood, the windows considerably smaller and simple round rosettes of stained glass, the front of the chapel decorated by a simple relief of human imagining of God's image holding the world in His hands._

_I wasn't impressed with either. I personally prefer the park. But then again, I've never found much comfort in the thought of an overarching deity._

_I don't deny the potential existence of one. Neither do I profess that the existence of one must be fact. I simply acknowledge that I, personally, have no base of belief. After all, if there is an overarching deity, why would it care about insignificant beings such as us?_

_Maybe a deity exists that's responsible for the creation of the world, as many religions suggest. I won't deny that it's possible. But why would such a creature care about us? Especially when there's proof that life exists on planets other than our own? After all, the blue creatures with their yellow-tipped antennae that have been dubbed 'pupu aliens' by the 'scientific community' are hardly native beings of this planet – they can't even be traced to the moon. If life is something that fills the universe rather than being unique to our planet, why would we take any form of precedence? Why would a supreme being care about the wishes, longings and prayers of this particularly sad little creation? And if such a being cared, why would suffering exist in its world? Why would children be left in orphanages, alone and abandoned and looked over despite all of their prayers for stability and family, shuffled off to the painful life of an unwanted, pitiful being fit only to be indoctrinated into a murderous system whose purpose was to terminate the lives of others? Why would that being allow the good, the innocent, the pure to be butchered by those who are anything but, who are killing for pleasure or for profit or to fulfill the orders given to them by those above them?_

_I don't' disbelieve. But I don't think such a being really cares about us. Otherwise, things would be different._

_Rinoa always argues with me about these points, of course. Says it has something to do with God's gift of free will, and Him stepping back to let humanity fuck itself as it sees fit. That He answers the prayers of the faithful, whether by inspiring them to accomplish something themselves or by providing a gentle nudge to set things into motion – that only those most ernst and honest prayers are answered, and always in the most subtle of methods._

_She also says that Sorceress wouldn't exist if not for the power of deities, so her own existence should amplify that higher powers do exist._

_I always counter with professing that Hyne was a crackpot Sorcerer who just found some method of wielding magic that made him immortal or something._

_She always just sighs and rubs her head, always casting me a helpless smile and telling me that I simply don't' understand. And I'm fine with that._

_So back to the topic at hand… the park. I've never been comfortable about the prospect of a higher power, so I'd rather not have our wedding in a house dedicated to the worship of one. I'm much more comfortable out in nature, surrounded with nothing but the planet's own beauty._

_Plus with a holiday wedding, given that Timber is flooded with evergreens, it will still be green, it will be cool while not being murderously cold like Trabia would, and she can decorate to her heart's content. I'd prefer something outdoors, simple and quiet and a bit more subdued without massive organs and a billion ushers and ritual. Something quick and easy, a few blessing to appease her and vows to hold one another for the rest of our lives._

_My vision's not one of a huge chapel with ribbon everywhere and more flowers than a person could feasibly shake a stick at drowning me in pollen and bright petals. It's more of a few ribbons and decorations in wild evergreens, perhaps some lights powered by extension cords run from the nearby auditorium, rows of folding chairs for our friends and closest associates to sit on and a tall candelabra we'd stand under as we're joined in matrimony._

_Yeah. No agreement whatsoever. She and I have been butting heads all afternoon._

_Maybe after our little sortie out to Obel Lake, we can sit down and have a serious conversation, maybe draw up some plans of what we both envision. Maybe I can sway her to my desires. She's probably hoping for the same thing – to make me see her vision and bend her way._

_Restaurants and auditorium are yet another point of contention, unfortunately._

_After small lunches at both, we decided that there was no way we'd bother with the local fare. The look on Rinoa's face was a twist of pathetic mixed with sorrowful that made it irresistibly cute when she pouted and sullenly confessed that it wasn't anywhere near as good as she remembered._

_I didn't think it was that bad, but if I want seafood I'll be going to a good restaurant in Balamb, thank you very much._

_Instead, I am thinking of hiring out Braburn's Bar and Grill. Rinoa had scoffed at first – how could I suggest such a place, she's raged, for our wedding? So I took her there._

_It was a decently sized restaurant I had the opportunity to discover when I'd done a bit of reconnaissance with Irvine in this region a good… seven or eight months ago now, I think. I'm not really sure of the amount of time that's passed. But the amount of time that's passed is a not really the issue here. What is happens to be the fact that the food at this place is fantastic._

_Leave it to Irvine to know every great hidey-hole and fantastic dining establishment, no matter how run down the joint or small the hovel, if it happens to exist upon his home continent. Really, in that aspect alone, he is an asset to Balamb Garden. The man has an unbeatable bearing towards finding good food. And the nearest fairly high quality red-light district, but that's rather beside the point._

_Thinking of Irvine, I have to remind myself to find out why the hell his head smells like strawberries when we get back to Balamb Garden._

_So after we'd had a short, small lunch at William and Puck's, supposedly famous for its incredible lamb shanks and touting the 'greatest seafood in all of Timber,' we more or less ran for the seedier districts of town by my direction. After that highly dissatisfying experience, we tracked down the restaurant Irvine had introduced me to despite Rinoa's protests of potentially considering such a 'low class' establishment for our reception's catering._

_An hour after arriving there, she was singing a different tune. She'd discovered exactly what I had found when Irvine first dragged me to Braburn's – they serve some of the greatest variety to be found in Trabia, from vegetable kabobs coated in a specialty sauce made in-house. Only thing was, she was still up in the air about hiring them – she wanted to have our reception dinner and all of the dancing and festivities to follow in some grand restaurant or, barring that, a hotel lobby so everyone can just stagger upstairs after the drunken revelries._

_I'm not opposed to a lobby. A restaurant makes me cringe and shudder – not only would the costs be simply astronomical to convince a business owner to shut down his establishment for public use for the night, it prevents me from getting Braburn's. Because there's no way in Hyne's unholy name that Rinoa would have a reception in their rather mediocre establishment (and to be frank, neither would I. The food's awesome – the building is a far cry from such)._

_But a lobby…? Really? Talk about inconvenient – having to have everyone gather at a location for the ceremony, then cart all their merry-making rears over to another location so they can get wasted and dance like fools. And knowing some of the people who were destined to show, some of our party members were going to be liquored up long before the official ceremony came to an end._

_Once again, my brain screams for the park. The auditorium is huge. It'd be easy to set up. And we can just breeze right to food and chairs after pictures, and no matter how much Rinoa argues to the contrary no matter where our ceremony is she's going to be whining about her shoes bothering her feet. Plus there's already a good sound system in the building, plenty of electrical support and a large open area for whatever we wish to use it for._

_And it's less cost prohibitive. While a lobby would be cheaper than a restaurant, it's still pricy._

_Sometimes I think Rinoa forgets that the world operates on gil and not dreams and desires. A life of privilege must do that to you, I guess._

_Rinoa's demanding I make checklists now, too. So I'll just jot down a reminder as I'm writing and she's pacing around behind me, ticking things off on her fingers and fussing over her newly applied nail polish._

_We have to agree where to have our wedding. We have to agree where to have our reception. We have to agree where the food's going to come from (catering vice restaurant in-house dining)._

_We have to start thinking about caterers, photographers, a minister (really? Feh – I say a Justice of the Peace is fine, but that's me), decorations, ushers (ugh), a ring bearer (like we know any kids – maybe Matron Edea can help with that?), a flower girl (same), the ages old question of tuxedos verses suits (I vote suits – and now Rinoa's blathering about how great I'd look in a tux. Fantastic.) and a florist. She also wants us to start thinking about the types of decorations we're going to have._

_Why the hell are we bothering with thinking about decorating when we don't even know where we're going to end up having the ceremony and reception?_

_And I can feel her eyes boring into my skull even as I write. To think I was just writing a couple of pages ago about how our bond is rather lopsided and she can readily read what flits on the surface of my brain._

_A tuxedo? Really? I hate those things. And be damned if I'm going to have tails draped over my butt._

_Time to get post-it notes into my journal, damn it. I'm getting tired of writing about all this wedding business. Plus I'm really meandering now – glancing over what I've written, I am actively resisting the urge to just slam this journal shut and curl up on the nearby bed for a quick nap before meeting with the Forest Owls. I definitely don't want to let it sit on my brain before tomorrow's sojourn out to Obel Lake. While it's definitely the SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN MY LIFE (stop reading over my shoulder) and I agree that these are critical decisions we have to come to some sort of resolution on, I want to stop thinking about it tonight and just reflect on it starting tomorrow after we find out how bad this horrible monster population boom truly is. Thank you._

_Work. Post-it notes about work. Well, the SeeDs I sent to Trabia reported in that they reached their destination successfully before I absconded with Rinoa from Balamb Garden. Quistis told me that if I ever sent her alone with Zell Dincht again she'd feed me my spleen. I ignored a lot of phone calls. Laguna is an idiot. What more is there to write?_

_So on to the other portion of this journal._

_That dream I wrote about last time? I still have it. Glimpses of it, actually – many times Rinoa wakes me from it, telling me that I toss and turn and cry out when my brain's being wracked by that particular nightmare. I've had no real opportunity to garner any further detail despite its regularity – everything I wrote about in my last entry is holding true, zero departures from previously dreamed imagery finding their ways into my sleep._

_That in of itself is enough to trouble me. Prophetic dreams, huh? How? Simply because I'm junctioned to Eden? Because she's made herself such a permanent presence in my head that some would argue I have no identity separate of hers in the heat of battle? How can a Guardian Force read into the future?_

_Is it because, having been to the future and dragged them all with us, the nearly supernatural beasts we tether our allegiance and souls to are capable of existing as Ultimecia sought to exist, becoming part of all times simultaneously? Is Eden able to show me what rests in my near future because she's already been there and has already seen it?_

_Just thinking about it is enough to give me headaches. Eden's laughter demolishing any cognizant senses that might make it through my eyes and ears, mocking and horrifying as it blasts away my thoughts, doesn't help the matter any._

_But there's something else. I've started having another dream. And what's weird is that there's a common element between them._

_In the dream I had last night and hastily jotted down before I could forget it, I am actually present. _

_Garden is listing in the middle of the ocean, having very nearly capsized. Its entire port side is drenched with water, falls of salty liquid pouring in sheets back into the sea itself. Its lower portion, the basement levels that house the odd mechanisms that give Garden its lift that once were buried beneath the ground and normally hover above whatever surface we're traveling over, is buried into the ocean. A sizable hole in the basement region pours water from it as Garden lamely lifts its mass from the waves, bobbling wildly as it overcorrects for the shift in mass it experiences as the water that fills it sloshes wildly with its momentum._

_I am on the remains of the Training Area – the top of that domed area has been blown completely away, as has most of the flooring. Any semblances of walls are totally missing. The Training Area, that lush enclosure permanently fixed to Garden's side that serves as a frustration release and a hideaway for me when I'm stressed beyond belief, is nothing more than a straggling jetty of metal thrusting from the side of Garden, a few tendrils of plants holding desperately to thinned soil and metal to stay away from the saltine depths that beckon for them. Below me, grats are sinking and T-Rexaurs struggle in vain against massive waves that threaten to bury not only them, but my broken perch upon Garden._

_I am hanging desperately on to the hilt of Lionhart, its crystalline tip buried in that steel spear I am kneeling on. It's all that's keeping me from the ocean itself. That and…._

_I'm drenched. Completely drenched. I'm dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt – obviously, I wasn't doing anything truly important during the moments that preceded the dream. Maybe blowing steam in the Training Area? Destroying some grats? Cursing because Betsy the T-Rexaur had decided to corner me instead of chase students around the trees? Hell if I can ever know. But I'm soaking wet from head to toe – my shirt is clinging to my body like a second skin, my jeans not faring much better, and my hair is all but plastered to my head._

_The person in my dream that's holding me in place upon my perilous perch isn't faring much better. Granted all he's wearing are his boxers, but still…._

_I noted that he looked very familiar. He has blond hair, tendrils of it on the right side of his face far longer than anything on the left and cut short in back. He's a touch shorter than me, just as slender and perhaps my age or maybe just a few years older. His body is covered in pale skin that's coated with nearly as many scars as my own._

_And he's holding me, protecting me. I guess in my dream I'm too focused on not falling off of Garden to push him away._

_The waves never settle, staying just as huge and fierce as ever as they batter into the already wounded side of Garden, its demolished Training Area taking the brunt of the water's attack._

_The waves are rings of water escaping from Eden's deadly presence._

_Upon those crests, countless corpses rise and fall. The ocean verily boils below the spear point that is her terminus, seething and smoking as her multi-hued form touches it. Fish, T-Rexaurs, grats, SeeD personnel… all are pushed away from her body by the fleeing waves that ring her massive figure._

_She hovers before Garden, her lower wings flapping idly to keep her aloft and her white frame overpowering the light of the sun that's sinking into the west behind Garden. Her halo, so reminiscent of what holds Garden aloft when it's underway, spins slowly and casts a wild array of color over the roiling waves. Her massive red cape flutters in the hurricane-force winds her slowly beating wings create even as she professes, her voice a whisper of deafening proportion, that our time is over and done._

_She is the rightful destroyer. No one will hold dominion over her. No force will threaten her immortal existence. She will be no slave._

_Golden light shines over me as her horrible laughter soars through the heavens. A lazy flap of her huge silver wings that spring from her halo top brings her to Garden's pulverized front facade in an instant._

_Her lower wings flap only once before she lightly brushes one along Garden's massive frame, those feathers seeping through metal itself. A young cadet, barely in his second year of training with us, is trying to reach me as he's touched by an errant feather and immediately dissolves into dust and blood._

_She's attacking me. She's attacking my Garden._

_And that stranger who has been holding me to my perch reaches over me, wrenching my gunblade from the ground and from my hands before verily leaping over me to stand between myself and the destroyer of worlds, brandishing Lionhart as anyone would hold an oversized common sword._

_That stranger I've never met, who feels so familiar to me…_

_The man who's been in both of my dreams, his irregular blond hair and slight build a common factor in both hallucinatory imaginings…._

_Who is this guy?_

_Why is he protecting me?_

_And more importantly… where is Rinoa?_

* * *

><p>There was a wild array of thoughts pouring through Cloud Strife's head at that moment in time. Most of them revolved around hatred.<p>

He hated dark dragons. He hated their Dark Breath attack. He hated the fact that he could see master tonberries in the near distance, priming their knives and waiting for a chance to charge forward on the miniscule raised path that was available for them to reach him and that was currently blocked by said dark dragon. He hated his lack of trustworthy companions, having none of his familiar allies at his side other than First Tsurugi. He hated not having Fenrir close by, the cycle still being back in Edge because he had been forced to utilize another form of transportation.

Above all, he hated Reno.

It wasn't that the man was leaving him to fend for himself or that he'd done what Cloud had been expecting – simply dropped him off at the top of North Crater with a bag of equipment and vague directions to go down as deep as he could and drop it off. No, Reno had far surpassed Cloud's expectations. He was actually taking him as far as he humanly could, apparently simply unwilling to scale sheer cliffs with over sixty pounds of equipment strapped to his back.

It wasn't that Cloud was being forced to face his current opponent alone, either. The Turk was, amazingly enough, fighting at his side.

It was owing to the simple fact that Reno had manipulated Cloud into doing his work for him that Cloud hated him more than any breathing entity on the face of the planet at that moment.

Cloud had left the comfort and serenity of his home immediately after lunch, having enjoyed what he was dreadfully certain would be his last taste of Tifa's home made hamburgers for at least a good week. She'd questioned where he was going – he'd offered simply that he had a task he had to finish up, and that he'd be back soon.

Tifa had simply smiled, her eyes disappointed even though her expression shined with understanding. "Do you need me to pack you a bag?" she'd asked.

He'd replied with a no – he would be forcing the one who'd tasked him to provide for him, come hell or high water.

When she'd asked if his suddenly derived departure had something to do with Reno, he'd frozen just long enough for her to know that she'd hit the proverbial nail squarely upon its head.

"What does he have you doing?" she'd asked, a frown turning her lips.

"Just checking out some activity in a place Reno claims he can't reach. I'm apparently going to station some new monitoring equipment for him."

"And he can't do this himself? Really?" Crossing her arms under her ample breasts, Tifa had pouted.

Cloud had commended himself for actually holding his tongue – he'd been tempted to unleash with verbal berating the likes of which had never been heard towards the wily, sinister Turk who'd grabbed every last chain attached to everything that mattered in Cloud's life and given those chains a solid yank, but he'd moderated himself. Instead of immediately lashing out with his opinion, he took a moment to consider the man he had dragging him along on a task he knew nothing of and wanted no part in.

Reno, if nothing else, was an obsessive perfectionist in all things he decided to actually take on. He might have been a drunkard and a slacker, but if he chose to see something through to its completion, it was completed. If he was enlisting outside aid, especially from a man he frequently claimed could kill a drunken blitz and sober a Turk with simply his appearance, Reno very likely legitimately required assistance.

Tifa'd accepted that explanation with a bare grain of salt, having packed him a lunch anyway.

So Cloud had arrived, just a few minutes shy of two in the afternoon, at the edge of town to find a black Shin-Ra helicopter already waiting for him.

Reno had been leaning against the machine, a smaller and lighter version of what Cloud had chased the day before, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. A long exhalation blew a stream of acrid smoke from thin lips as slim fingers tugged the sunglasses that shielded the Turk's eyes from the sun back into unruly red hair. "You're cuttin' it damned close, Strife. Would've thought you'd've learned proper punctuality in the infantry, zo to."

Cloud's hatred of Reno had only started to build from that moment.

The snippy little comments here and there grated on every last nerve Cloud possessed. Even the seemingly polite thanks for assisting him were immediately followed by sneers, comments or looks that registered in Cloud's mind as a mocking laugh in his direction, an acknowledgement that Reno had him right where he wanted him and there was nothing he could do about it.

Cloud had been more than willing to simply jump from the helicopter and walk to North Crater by the time they'd finally made it across the strait that segregated the two landmasses that held their points of departure and destination. He was swearing to himself that if he heard one more comment about how 'completely awesome Tifa's rack is' he was going to snap the Turk in half.

The Turk had flown straight into the night, the sun's setting long preceding even the most initial sighting of the massive crater that marred the Planet's surface.

While Cloud would've been even more embittered upon reflection on the fact that he'd indeed spent an entire day having his ear chewed off by inane chatter from an annoying voice that insisted on punctuating every other sentence with 'zo to,' he found night a welcome occurrence – Reno fell quiet when the lighting grew poor, concentrating more on piloting the helicopter safely over rapidly changing terrain rather than driving Cloud absolutely insane.

As night had fallen, Cloud finally got a decent look at the phenomena Rufus had sent Reno to investigate. And he hated Reno all the more for bringing him so close to the unknown event.

He felt it stirring in his gut and his mind. The alien sensation of fire burning through his veins, weaker than ever before but still present, flickered through his body. Flashes of green burst along the back of his eyes, burning in his brain. A thrumming pressure built in his skull near his sinuses, driving flaring pain through his entire frame.

He'd groaned as he'd rubbed his head, leaning without energy against the firmly latched swinging door that made up the sidewall of his side of the small helicopter. Reno had barely cast him a look as he pushed the vehicle's control stick closer to the dash, slightly changing their pitch and raising the speed of their approach.

Cloud had shaken his head hard to clear the poisonous jade color from his vision, swallowing bile and unease. Then he'd noticed that Reno had flown them right to the top of North Crater.

"Going to drop me off here?" Cloud had inquired.

"Nope. I wanna make certain you're going to do as asked. Said I'm not peachy keen on going to the bottom. Nothin' said I'm going to be far out of earshot."

As turbulence had rocked the small vessel, Cloud had let his hatred of the wily Turk grow.

Even Cid had possessed the sense to know that you don't fly a small craft down into a crater.

Reno, however, was completely lacking in that quality. He all but pointed the nose of their helicopter straight towards the bottom and floored it.

A few close calls and frighteningly near-misses, a narrowly avoided collision with a stray floating rock and a couple wild sprints away from wild spurts of sickly green energy later, Cloud was ready to grab the control stick right out of the Turk's fingers and try his hand at flying if only to get them out of the apparently suicidal flight Reno insisted they take.

Reaching for his seat belt as the helicopter surged violently once more, holding on to it for dear life, Cloud swallowed another wave of sudden motion sickness brought on by the most volatile flying he'd ever been forced to partake in.

It was at that very moment in time that Reno had put the vehicle down, landing it with surprisingly smooth proficiency upon the very ledge that Cloud had stood upon years ago, where he'd been faced with two paths, had split his party of friends between them, and told everyone to ensure they stayed alive and all met again at the bottom of the crater.

"Only place wide enough to put a 'copter," Reno unnecessarily supplied even as Cloud, his hatred of Reno now revolving not only around his cynical and wicked nature and his inane, aggravating banter but now around his reckless flying and careless disregard for other peoples' lives but now also focused on his cocky arrogance and ridiculously inhuman skill with the most ridiculous flying machine man had ever invented, all but fell out of the machine and tried not to lose his recently consumed lunch to the stone below them.

It was then that a dark dragon decided that attacking would be splendid.

Cloud had barely enough time to wrench his sword from the small helicopter's interior and wipe his mouth with his hand, plant his feet and take a deep breath before it had unleashed with its Dark Breath.

And to add to his reasons for loathing the Turk he was traveling with, Reno had waited for the monster to complete its initial attack, having used Cloud as a convenient target for its aggravation at being disturbed by a helicopter very nearly landing on its head, to exit the machine.

"Gonna stand there all day, Strife?" Reno had mocked, forgoing his gun and instead drawing his EMR from the 'copter, a wild and bloodthirsty smile on his lips.

With a groan of dismay, Cloud had grit his teeth and launched himself towards the dark dragon, sword leading the way.

And he'd suppressed his scream of rage when he'd been firmly caught in a wildly cast _Pyramid._

It had been that moment, that second, that Cloud decided that Reno really and truly needed First Tsurugi planted right through his chest.

Moments later, _Bolt 3_ raked over the land followed almost immediately by an errantly thrown _Ultima_.

Before Cloud could ponder where in the blazes the Turk had found materia, the _Pyramid _was released.

Staggering, Cloud glowered at his impromptu traveling companion. "The hell, Reno?" he snarled, his fist tightening its grip on his sword.

A cocky smile on his lips, Reno shrugged. "Bigger and badder are getting closer. I didn't want you so involved with our li'l dark dragon pal over there that you left me to those tonberry fuckers all by myself."

With a groan, Cloud swung his sword before him, putting it between him and the approaching crowned lizards with their knives. "Don't you dare snag me in another spell, Turk."

"You got my word," Reno said with a grin, his eyes narrowed and cold as they retained their focus on the approaching threat.

Their initial surge against one another past, Cloud was amazed how harmoniously he and the inglorious Turk battled. For ever strike Cloud landed, Reno was providing backup and support. For every blow Cloud suffered, Reno was tapping his undoubtedly illegally maintained materia to keep them both free from wounds and at full capacity. For every attack Cloud attempted that was dodged, the unlucky target of Cloud's initial attack found itself at the business end of Reno's electromagnetic weapon, unleashing with piteous screeches before falling dead, the Turk's no-nonsense approach to the fights they were facing apparent in his unleashing with his weapon's full potential.

As much as Cloud loathed it, the Turk stood by his side, his weapon carefully kept from contacting his left shoulder as he barely resisted the urge to tap it in place as they awaited the next master tonberry's decision to fight or fee, as naturally as any one of Cloud's normal companions would.

It brought back memories, fond and painful simultaneously, of his initial attack on North Crater, when he'd had his friends supporting him in his endeavor to put Sephiroth's ambitions to rest. When he'd stood beside Barret, listening to the oddly comforting sound of rapid machine-gun fire raze the opposition. When he'd stood next to Vincent, the stoic and silent man's gun a blast of racket that blared through the chaos before the monsters that rested in his blood stirred and lent their inhuman aid. When he'd fought with Yuffie, her shouts bright and energetic no matter how thick the opposition as she bounded through battle after battle. When he'd fought beside Red XIII, relishing in the sound of the noble beast's howls of triumph. When he'd battled beside Cait Sith, the treachery of the past long abandoned and the man behind the machine having cast his ultimate lot in with the rebels he was supposed to help stop, the robot's slang accent pouring over its megaphone as its mighty mog mount stood as an unstoppable guardian for everyone. When he'd battled along with Tifa.

Tifa, who he would have given anything to protect. Who he'd failed so many times in the past. Who he now could rectify those mistakes with. Who he now had a home with.

Cloud was wrenched violently back to reality as the master tonberry that stood on its own before them turned to run. A blaze of gunfire from a suddenly drawn gun mowed the beast down.

"Woo. Path should be safe for at least a little while, Strife. The equipment's in the 'copter, zo to."

"Don't you think that was unnecessary?" Cloud grumbled.

Reno simply cast him a twisted grin before he walked back to the vehicle.

Shoulders slumped, Cloud assisted Reno in the arduous task of unpacking the equipment that was loaded. Certainly enough, it was all encased in a huge rucksack that not only would be cumbersome, but also very heavy.

"I'll direct you on what to do when you get down there, zo to," Reno stated, shoving a walkie-talkie into Cloud's hand after he had assisted in getting the nearly sixty pound pack onto the mako-infused blond's shoulders.

"You're not going to make any effort to come down?" Cloud inquired, his eyes narrowed.

"Fuck no! What, you think I'm crazy?"

Cloud arched one brow.

With a huff, Reno snorted and crossed his arms, seating himself on the floor of the helicopter, his feet kicking idly at the ground outside of the small vehicle's sliding side door. "Someone's gotta guard the 'copter, yo. Otherwise there's no way to expeditiously get back to Edge."

"Right."

Cloud simply swallowed his complaints, having expected as much from the Turk and having received verbal confirmation of his suspicions. He held a small reservoir of comfort in the fact that every reason he had for loathing the Turk was justifiable. At the very least, it was justifiable to him.

Propelled by his loathing for Reno and his desire to be free of the Turk's overbearing presence, Cloud began the tedious descent into North Crater.

He'd not truly known what to expect. When last he'd been in North Crater, he'd descended along a spiraling walkway of rocky pillars and sloping paths littered with monsters. The closer he'd gotten to the bottom, the more odd the monsters and terrain had become – instead of simply being dragons and master tonberries, the monsters became skeletal dragon zombies and armored golems somehow supported on rocks that floated in midair.

When the centermost platform he and his friends had ended up on had crumbled with Jenova's monstrous form's death throes, they'd plunged into the blue-green stream that filled the bottom of the crater, sinking into the very heart of the Planet itself. And there, upon a small stone held aloft by the force of the Lifestream itself, they'd faced off with Sephiroth himself, his form twisted and transformed by Jenova's taint and the influx of impure Lifestream.

Once the rock had collapsed, once Sephiroth's form had burst into nothing more than swirls of Lifestream and energy and they'd claimed victory, the walkway had begun to collapse. Every rock that hovered seemed to lose whatever mystic property that had held it aloft, plunging into the planet. When the _Highwind_ had scrapped itself down the side of North Crater, Cloud had assumed that easy access to the bottom of the massive mar on the Planet's surface would have been eternally demolished.

Once he left the ledge the helicopter was perched on, he found that indeed most of the walkway had been demolished – all that remained were a few sparsely spaced jutting platforms of stone, each quite solidly constructed but far too distanced from one another for any without mako or some other enhancement coursing through their veins to realistically navigate.

Gripping the straps of the pack that sat squarely and heavily on his back, Cloud began the difficult task of following the remnants of the path he'd taken so many years ago to clash with his nemesis over the fate of the planet.

His trip was surprisingly uneventful – every time he spotted a monster a few platforms ahead, a bang of a gun from far above would sound and the creature would either flee or collapse dead. While Cloud surmised that the Turk's intervention was entirely unnecessary and every creature he'd spotted on his way down into the crater's depths was no match for himself, he found himself surprisingly pleased that Reno was at least serious enough about this task to actively participate rather than simply smoke himself into oblivion while waiting for Cloud to invariably finish the task he'd been assigned.

It wasn't until he reached that portion of the path where the rocks had been floating that Cloud was truly shocked.

His path had differed this time – the walkway, broken and scattered as it was, had still hugged the massive cylindrical walls of the crater. The massive cave system that had existed, however, had been sealed by rockslides that Cloud surmised was attributing to the lack of monsters in his way.

He also lacked a clear view of the center of the crater. The 'second impact' as the Turk had dubbed it had caused such an upheaval in the center of the crater that the scant crust that had formed over the Lifestream's exposed surface once it had completed its seepage from the Planet's interior to shove the threat of Meteor back into space had been thrust upwards, forming the edges of a secondary crater within North Crater itself. The pathway Cloud was following slipped between the two craters' walls.

Once he'd reached the bottom of his walkway, however, he did find an easy path into the secondary impression in the Planet's surface. A large crack, wide enough that he and Barret would have walked through it shoulder to shoulder, ran straight through the massive stone wall that Cloud would otherwise have had to climb.

Stepping through, he'd stared with huge eyes.

The Lifestream, pure and blue as he'd not seen it since the first time he'd traversed Mount Niebel and seen natural mako pools, brilliant as he'd not seen it since the moments before he'd initially hurled the insane General of Shin-Ra's proud SOLDIER troops into its depths, pooled at the bottom of the inner crater. Tendrils of sickly green were streaming towards the sky, blue Lifestream appearing to stream away from it, dripping from it viscously.

"It's… like it's being pulled away…" Cloud surmised. "Whatever it is, it's being pulled away."

Suddenly his walkie-talkie burst into static, followed by an agitated voice hissing through the interference, "You reached the bottom yet, Strife?"

A frown turning his lips, Cloud pulled the device from the pocket in his cargo pants he'd devoted to it. "Yeah."

"Close as you can get to the deepest part?"

"I can probably get a few rocks closer. Give me a few."

Narrowing his eyes, Cloud stared at the path before him. Three large stones. Three large hovering stones that he could clearly recall having run and jumped over.

The final three stones that lead to the platform he and his companions had stood upon when they'd faced off with Jenova's mutated remains.

The first two jumps were effortless. The third, further than the rest, brought Cloud's heart nearly to his throat as he stumbled, his footing lost and his fingers clawing for purchase as a boot slipped right off the edge of the hovering platform.

Hauling himself into place, he lifted his electronic tether to the Turk above. "I'm here. Tell me what to do."

"Alright, zo to. Now listen carefully – this shit's not the most intuitive monitoring equipment on the face of the Planet, yo."

"Great," Cloud groaned.

It took him nearly an hour.

Cloud felt a small inkling of satisfaction, even though he was mere seconds away from tearing his own hair out.

Reno's instructions had been spot on, but the Turk and Cloud were working on different levels of technical expertise. And for some reason, Reno took requests to explain something in more concise detail as some variant of an insult.

But all said and done, the Shin-Ra equipment was up and running, Reno's tinny voice actually offering a burst of 'Thanks for the help' among the 'ya ta!'s and 'I am so fucking awesome, zo to!'s.

"Yo, what's going on?" Reno suddenly inquired.

"With what?" Cloud asked, arching a brow as he pondered exactly how he was going to circumvent all of the hard work he'd just performed and the delicate equipment he'd so carefully assembled to make the perilous jump back to the next stone that invariably would lead him out of the crater and back towards home.

"I've got some massive energy readings up here. Type is… fuck! MOVE!"

Cloud stared at the device in his hand, his brain twisting itself around two thoughts.

The first being that Reno, of all people, sounded genuinely concerned for him.

The second being that Reno must have had a reason for yelling such a command to him.

Then Cloud's eyes focused on the huge glowing blue field underneath the rock he was upon. They widened even as Cloud' breath hitched in his throat and his body threatened to freeze with terror.

He jumped just as the huge green flare burst from the Lifestream, consuming the rock he'd just been on.

The stone he'd jumped on crumbled the moment his foot struck it.

"STRIFE!" Reno's voice screamed over the walkie-talkie as Cloud felt himself plummet.

As everything was washed in green and freezing cold, Cloud gasped desperately for breath. One faint sliver of air slipped into his lungs, and then there was no more.

Feeling as if he was simultaneously plunging into the depths of the Planet itself and being hurled beyond the stars themselves, Cloud flailed desperately for anything to gain purchase on, his hands stretching and reaching for anything to touch. His walkie-talkie forgotten and discarded, he barely noticed the sudden silence as it fell completely away and took his link to Reno with it.

As Cloud's lungs screamed for air, his body wailed for warmth and his brain cried for stability, he felt that green aura around him constrict and constrain him, enveloping him and smothering him. He fought as desperately as he could, both hands opening and freeing themselves of any burden as he reached for anything material to ground himself to. Panic driving him, he couldn't bring himself to care about his inadvertently dropped sword as the simple needs for air and gravity bombarded him.

Then the green vanished.

There was air.

Drawing desperate gulps, Cloud shut his eyes tight to ward off any sensation of vertigo even as his brain began to process what scant information it could comprehend at that moment in time.

He was lying on something cool and hard that felt distinctly metallic, smooth as anything he'd ever touched in his life and lacking that faint grain linoleum always possessed for his sensitive fingertips. Somewhere very nearby was a fountain – he could hear water pouring into water, continuous and unending, entirely unbroken and therefore unobstructed. He still had clothes on his body, though he felt as if his black zip-up sleeveless sweater-top and similarly colored cargo pants had a few new rips and tears in them. His partial trench coat he always wore on trips of similar nature to the one he'd just been on was shredded beyond repair.

His sword was missing. His walkie-talkie was gone.

There were alarms blaring.

Cloud's eyes instantly sprang open, introducing him to an array of sights and colors he was entirely unprepared for.

He was indeed near a fountain. An enormous sculpture of an artistic rendition of a sea animal with a curled tail, scales and finery was spewing an arch of water into a huge circular pool that circled an enormous pillar that rose from the center of whatever chamber Cloud had found himself in. He was laying strewn on the floor of a steel colored circular pathway off of which sprang walkways, each with a differently colored arrow stained into the metal and pointing away from that centermost structure. Everything was sleek and metal, reflecting the whirling red lights that flashed everywhere around the enormous chamber with its vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch at least two, if not more, stories up.

Listening to the alarm, Cloud felt his eyes widen as he heard and understood the announcement that was floating atop the blaring wail.

"Intruder alert," the stern female voice announced. "Intruder alert. All unessential personnel stand clear of the blast doors. The blast doors are now closing. SeeD personnel are requested to the center lobby."

As the metallic clang of door after door slamming shut and the thundering of boots running away filled Cloud's ears, he struggled to his feet. Scowling, he bolted for the closest available exit to his rapidly imprisoned status.

The young man that stood between him and his destination screeched and dropped the hefty sword he was carrying before fleeing along the green arrow marked hallway, squeezing through the rapidly closing metal barricade and pausing just long enough to ensure Cloud was incapable of making it through the doors as well before they slammed shut with an earth-shattering bang.

Turning sharply on his heel, Cloud stared at his surroundings.

He was trapped.

Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes raised even as he retrieved the weapon the man he'd inadvertently chased down had left behind, spinning it once in his hand to get a quick feel for its weight and balance. It wasn't nearly as heavy as he was used to nor as bulky, but it was marvelously weighted and handled beautifully, each quick twirl and an experimental swing placing the weapon right where Cloud expected it to go with practically no effort. A touch more confident now that he had a quality weapon in his hand, he walked towards the center of the large room he'd been ensnared in, his eyes and stance a touch more prepared and relaxed, ready more for battle than for fleeing.

The centermost structure had a pair of doors perched right above a huge fall of stairs. Those doors opened as a resounding ringing sound announced the arrival of an elevator tucked behind them.

One foot falling back, Cloud lifted his newly attained sword before him, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the opponent who stood before him.

As he began to crack his knuckles the blond man emerging from the elevator smiled, his grin cold and his eyes calculating. "If you know what's best for you, you'll just give up now."

Cloud tightened his grip on his weapon and snorted softly.

A touch of mania touched the blond's lips as he crouched, red-gloved fists clenching as he hopped lightly on his toes. "That's it, buddy. You're standing between me and hot dogs."

_-to be continued-_

* * *

><p>AN: There was zero intention to insult or offend anyone of any religious belief or disbelief in this chapter. Squall's opinion is strictly Squall's opinion, and what I derived would be fitting of his character given his behavior and thought process throughout the game. Those opinions expressed here are not meant as an argument for or against anyone's beliefs (including my own!), but simply derived fantasy. :P


	5. Cards and Flowers

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 5  
><span>Cards and Flowers<span>

_It's now been one month._

_One month since I've written anything in this journal. To say things have been a bit hectic and chaotic would be an exceptional understatement._

_At least with everything that's been going on, Rinoa's backed down on pressuring me about the wedding preparations. She's recognized that I need some rest. She's also allowing herself to consider my wants and desires a bit more, actually giving some consideration to my 'oddities' as she calls them. Recently, she's actually been drawing on pictures of the park we'd visited in color gel markers, asking me what I think of the decorations she's considering. Her last crisis about cards was handled between herself and that Delilah character I've never met. I don't know the result – right now, I could care less._

_I can barely read what I'm writing right now. I can't bring myself to focus enough to reread what I'd written previously in my journal. The migraines that are pummeling my brain to paste are more painful than any I've ever experienced before, driven not by my own nerves and worries but by the ravenous screams, hideous laughter and ceaseless unrest of the Guardian Force in my head._

_I'm playing hooky from work – I tried to go earlier, but it was so hard to concentrate that I was accomplishing nothing. So much for my first day back on Balamb Garden and catching up on what I've been missing over the last thirty-odd days. I know the Headmaster's going to be disappointed in my lack of performance, and I know normally I'd be striving to do my best and to quell that disappointment before it could form, but right now I could give two shits. My head feels like it's literally going to split in half. The ringing telephone doesn't help it any._

_In fact, the telephone hit the trash today. I unplugged the bastard and threw it in the round file. We'll see if anyone dares to restore it to its proper location in my office before I go back to that hellhole of paperwork and racket._

_The few things I got accomplished on this, my first day back at work, were pretty miniscule at best. Seeing as how Rinoa and I accompanied Quistis and Zell back from Esthar, I really had no reason to process a mission report from them – everything they'd told me has already been forwarded to the departments that require said information, Intelligence so they can properly close out the issue and monitor the results, Accounting so they can charge Esthar in accordance to the contract we've drafted, Payroll so they can properly credit my friends for their expeditious performance of their duties with the bonuses that were written into the agreement between Garden and the nation we'd just served. I'd already had Quistis call the Headmaster to inform him of their success, my patience for the phone at record lows._

_The report from the SeeDs I'd sent to Trabia took only a few minutes to draft, their job having been exceptionally simple and lacking in any problematic situations. The man with whom we'd drafted our agreement had been quite honest and forthcoming about the problem he was facing, and my SeeDs had performed as expected. They had taken me a total of fifteen minutes._

_Then the official start of the workday had rolled in as I was finishing my signature on their success report. The phone had instantly started with its incessant cry. My brain felt like it wanted to either explode or dissolve into nothing and ooze right out of my ears._

_Eden was restless. She'd had the opportunity to taste freedom. She wanted to come back out, and was understandably more than a little pissed with the fact that we were returning to the mediocrity of day-to-day life. She didn't want me answering a phone and dictating where people would go – she wanted me back out on the field, gunblade in hand and her song singing from the heavens and lending its strength to my veins. She wanted her ferocity channeled through my body, rending my opponents asunder and devouring them to supplement her presence in my mind. She wanted me surrounded by foes, summoning her into reality, letting her craft her massive form in the sky and decimate the planet as she saw fit. She wanted to bathe in the energy of reality and space, to spread her massive silver wings and demolish everything that lived throughout time._

_Her quiet in the last months, my dwelling in the mediocrity of office slave, had come to an end when Rinoa and I had traveled to Obel Lake. It was as if she was asleep prior to that event, resting in my mind without care of the passage of time – her recent activity awakened her and left her dissatisfied with our current reality, leaving her craving the opportunity to truly destroy the world as she claims she's crafted to do. And it seemed as if her dissatisfaction was to be taken out on me._

_It was a continuous struggle all morning today – trying to answer the phone, trying to focus on what whoever was on the other end of the phone was saying, trying to ignore the screams for death and destruction and action that ring in my ears. Most of what I was able to transcribe onto memo sheets from those conversations read like gibberish when I could even read them – my writing degraded to the point that I couldn't read it at all, looking more like hieroglyphs than any legible scribing._

_Of what I could read, I can barely remember a few of those messages. One concerned those blasted floating cows around Winhill again, this time accompanied by some odd head-statue. Another was from Timber once more – something about the monsters seeming to flee the Obel Lake region and starting to raze nearby towns, and what I did to so upset what was originally there. Esthar's president contacted me to ask me about some weird phenomena his country's satellites picked up – Odine had already briefed me on it, I'd passed it on to my Intelligence department, and we still had no response. The message from a man in Dollet was unreadable – I'm sure he'll get back to me when I fail to get back to him. Someone in Centra was requesting SeeD to scout around a mountain range or something. Cactaurs seem to be drifting from their little island to the Centran mainland along a land-bridge that was exposed by some weird gravitational shift that Estharian scientists are blaming on a large explosion that may have had something to do with me (much to their lacking knowledge). Our Intelligence department presented me with a report on the odd energy spikes they'd detected during their routine tapping into the satellites and monitoring systems world wide, the taps performed without anyone else's knowledge or concession. I have yet to read it, as it's quite thick and has very small writing. They'd already told me they have yet to discern its true nature and the packet was ninety percent speculation._

_Speculation and energy spikes be damned. Eden's racket and the sensation on my mind literally being reduced to mush made it hard for me to care about them. Even though everything seemed to coincide with her disturbance, even though she pressed for planetary destruction before 'one less worthy' could rise in her stead, I could begin to think about the issues on hand._

_By lunch time I was torn between stabbing myself in my eye socket with my letter opener to relieve the pressure building in my head or simply hurling into my garbage can as a migraine rocked my world and roiled my innards. Given the fact that I'm blindly scribbling in my journal right now, it's easy to ascertain that I chose to throw up over killing myself. And right now, I'm not certain I'm pleased I made that decision – yes, I have a future with Rinoa waiting for me and a wedding to get to and happiness promised in my future days, but right now the misery of Eden raping my brain is making my not only physically ill but driving me crazy._

_Rinoa was so busy with her own delving into wedding preparations that I was actually left to my own devices for the day, her not showing up when my head was threatening to explode and Eden was screaming in rage for me to move out of my chair and kill the entire world._

_My salvation was actually brought not by the woman I love, but by Selphie._

_She'd come in, her face pale and shining with worry as she closed the door behind herself and skipped without enthusiasm to my side. She'd asked me if I was alright. I think I'd grunted in response._

_And Selphie being Selphie, lacking respect for personal space as much as her boyfriend (maybe that common trait they share ties them together?), she immediately stepped around my desk and rested a palm on my forehead. After surmising that my head wasn't actually on fire, she just frowned and told me that 'Doomy' had said that Eden was being a 'punk' and that her screams for destruction could be heard by every Guardian Force on the planet._

_I'd never known that Guardian Forces could commune with one another when they weren't junctioned to the same mind. Selphie had assured me she hadn't either, until she was able to confirm Doom Train's proclamation concerning Eden's uprising and subsequent lack of ability to settle peacefully back into slumber._

_I recall vaguely leaning against Selphie's cool hand, the very light pressure against my skin soothing and comforting even as Eden burbled in my brain. I'd asked her if she ever had trouble with Doom Train – if the demonic mechanism from the fires of Hell itself ever tried to rend her mind asunder or break free of her control._

_Selphie told me she's never had any real problems with Doom Train – the two of them apparently get along swimmingly. Never a headache, never a muscle spasm that she can attribute to that Guardian Force's continual inhabitation of her mind. Only the threat of her memories being consumed, permanently eradicated and stripped from her mind with the revoking of her junction with the monster that's chosen her brain as its perpetual abode creates any disharmony between them and forces her to retain her connection with him whether or not it coincides with her own will._

_She'd actually crawled into my lap at that point, grabbing my head and forcing it down against her chest despite my panic. As she pet my hair, I found I could relax._

_Let it be known right here and now that I hold nothing but a friendly acquaintance with Selphie Tilmit. I would never abandon my love for Rinoa to her, no matter how much she understands the agony of having a Guardian Force forever docked inside a brain and the tumultuous nature of being a SeeD. And I would never, ever in a million years give either Rinoa or Irvine a reason to slaughter me for eliciting an affair with the bubbly, warm girl that sat on my lap._

_Alright, that just came out wrong. And I can't believe I just wrote that in pen._

_(Please, Rinoa, know you eternally have my heart. I will never stray. And Selphie's just playful and would never sleep with me – I'd never allow that to occur in the first place. Please don't rake me over the coals for letting her sit in my lap when Eden was kicking me square between the eyeballs and ripping my brain to shreds – you were busy, and she was just trying to help my headache fade.)_

_I think Eden likes her, because as she pet my hair and held my head against her soft breasts the headache that had been popping capillaries in my eyes began to recede. Or maybe it's because she was distracting me from the frustration of work that I was able to finally get control of my nausea and simply close my eyes, focusing on the black of oblivion rather than the harsh light of my computer monitor and the blaring yellow of my memo pads._

_I don't know how long we were like that – all I know is that she moved away, the phone rang, and I ripped it right off my desk and tossed it into the trash after unplugging the demonic device. She'd laughed at me and told me to go home to 'Rinny' and relax._

_I'd complied with her demand._

_So… here I am, my migraine quite present and horrible, my head awash in pain and misery and my stomach too empty to have anything to quell the queasiness that's warring with my senses. It's been a full month and she still hasn't settled._

_I know she wants the freedom she'd finally tasted once again. I just can't in good conscious grant it._

_She wishes destruction and the eternal devastation of the planet – I can't grant her that wish. She screams her apocalyptic song in my brain, every syllable crying for the obliteration of all life upon the world and the dissolution of the world itself._

_Dormancy followed by action has enraged the beast within my head, giving her a small savory bite of rampage followed by an immediate return to mortal imprisonment. I guess I can understand her rage. I simply can't abide by her wishes and relinquish my control._

_One month ago, Rinoa and I had headed out to Obel Lake._

_We'd rented a car in town, paying a considerable amount to ensure it was filled to the brink with fuel (run out once with a cowboy who refined all of your spare fuel canisters into fire ammunition he didn't need, and you learn to top off your tank before you leave civilization) before hitting the wilderness._

_In less than ten miles of travel from Timber's capital city, we'd noticed the oddities._

_Monsters weren't immediately frightened off by the vehicle. Rather, they'd sit and stare at it, sometimes salivating, sometimes giving chase and giving up only after they realized that a car was prey that would never tire._

_Typically the pitch of the turbines that drive our vehicles is beyond painful to monstrous ears. While silent to our own, the decibels put out by the whirring turbine blades can be detected by any creature sensitive to that range, which fortunately includes most of Hyne's foul deliverances to the planet's surface. Hence why monsters tend to steer clear of highways and populated towns, the racket of vehicular traffic usually enough to keep them at bay. Cars have always been a safe way to get from point 'a' to point 'b' without confrontation. The huge turbines that power our trains keep the rails clear and provide confidence in goods and personnel transportation._

_The monsters of the wilderness we were driving into, however, weren't driven away. They cringed in pain, alright. They drooled and scratched at their heads. They roared at us. They ran after us rather than running away._

_To make matters more odd, we weren't simply seeing wendigos, cockatrices, thrustaevi, ochus, grendels and the sort. What we were seeing brought fear to me._

_T-Rexaurs__._

_Blue dragons._

_Even a malboro._

_Everything we'd faced on the Island Closest to Hell was here, all of them wandering through the vast forests that made up most of Timber's territories._

_No wonder we'd received the call._

_The deeper we drove into the woods and off the beaten path, the more dense the monsters became. Rinoa was gripping her armrests, her face pale, as we finally burst free of the woods._

"_I think I know where the Senator's concern comes from," I remember lamely stating._

_She'd actually laughed at me, even as I put the car into park and we both got out. "Thinking of drafting a contract with him?" she'd playfully asked even as she had grabbed her Angel Wing pinwheel out of the trunk._

"_Maybe," I'd stated as I grabbed my gunblade. "Let's see if these things are from the region I'm afraid they're from, or if they're a bit more on the 'reasonable' scale.'_

_The monsters we were facing were indeed of the region I'd feared they'd be from. Even so, we'd managed to beat them away from our location, Rinoa unharmed despite their best efforts, my wounds more or less superficial in nature._

"_What's driving them?" Rinoa had asked._

_I still can't answer her question. To this day, a month later, I have no idea._

_All I know is that the enormous ruby dragon that suddenly landed on Obel Lake's peninsula and bathed us both in its fiery breath had shocked the hell out of me._

_Rinoa had screamed, covering her face with her arms and letting her pinwheel take the brunt of the attack that would have bathed her head. The flames had parted around her moments later, a white aura surrounding her while sparks of electric energy flared around her delicate frame._

"_No!" I clearly remember shouting. "I'll take care of it."_

_I didn't want her unleashing, after all._

_I understood the cost of her tapping into her power and the impossible strain that was placed on her. It was something that seemed to come innately, just as the bond between us was formed._

_I understood the devastating power at her hands, the roiling magic of Hyne himself seething in her blood and whispering for destruction just as fervently as Eden herself screamed for the like in my mind. I understood that tapping into that power stripped Rinoa of her sensibilities, stripped her of the very essence that made her herself._

_I'd come to know through the time I'd been her Knight what my role truly was._

_I am here to keep her grounded in reality. To hold her in the present rather than allow her consciousness to wander throughout all time. To keep her human._

_To keep her from becoming what Ultimecia became. The Sorceress without a Knight from the future had lost herself to time, her sanity eroded completely by time's infinite march and Hyne's incredible power flowing through her veins, her humanity dissolved by the moon's cold touch in her heart. Whatever woman she may have once been had been destroyed by her delving into the power the moon's banished deity imparted onto her, by harnessing the inhuman and alien strength that flowed through her body._

_While Rinoa certainly had the might to demolish any threat that would stand against us, the cost of her harnessing that power, the threat of her losing herself and me losing my precious love, was too high for us both. I would always strive to accomplish my purpose as her Knight._

_I would defend her._

_Out there on Obel Lake, trapped between the waters of Obel Lake and the ruby dragon that gnashed its teeth at us, I had released what power I had burning within me._

_My junctions that day were set up incorrectly when it came to facing ruby dragons. Flares tethered to my gunblade for elemental attacks, Regens on my status attacks, and everything plowed into health, vitality, strength and speed wouldn't let me stand a chance. My gunblade would be useless._

_The magic I had brought with me, that I was willing to cast without crippling myself by stripping away my junctions, was similarly not going to be conducive to effectively battling the monster off. I had a full array of Full-Lifes, some Thundagas, a plethora of Scans (after all, it was a recon mission – Scans, while otherwise useless, are actually handy on those) and a pittance of status spells like Sleep (useless on these dragons), Break (also useless on these), Float (ha ha – won't stop breath attacks and won't protect us from them), Shell, Protect, and the like. I hadn't really been set for battle that couldn't be handled without my gunblade – and junctioned as I was, even Aura was effectively stripped of its usefulness._

_And be damned if I'd cast Aura on Rinoa – without Angelo nearby, she'd be forced to fall back on the power I was attempting to prevent her from having to tap. That was perhaps the only time I regretted not having the yappy fuzzball with us. _

_So I had decided to tap into the one power I had that could settle the entire fiasco in the blink of an eye._

_Eden had come surprisingly quickly when I'd summoned her, shocking regarding our recently degrading compatibility with one another (turns out that if you refuse to summon her to take care of small issues and decide that devouring your fellow humans because they piss you off is actually a bad idea makes her cranky and not exceptionally happy with you). I guess she just really wanted to get free and into the battle._

_She'd blown the ruby dragon off the planet in the blink of an eye. The garish flash of white light, the grid of colors that appears whenever she appears, had blinded me momentarily. I still remember the gasping draw of breath I found when I'd been released from her constraining grasp and appeared with Rinoa once again on the peninsula, that odd lack of air that always remained after Eden's profusely powerful attack always taking its toll._

_When it'd crashed down into the center of Obel Lake, its return to the planet's surface from wherever it had been sent violent and devastating, the water blew straight out of that craterous hole._

_I still remember – it looked eerily familiar._

_A dark, muddy-bottomed crater with a peninsula jutting straight into it._

_Where had I seen such before…?_

_I can't rightly remember. I'll search my journal once I can read properly (actually, I'm hoping I can read this reminder later – my hand's simply moving on autopilot right now)._

_But the corpse of the ruby dragon was still, buried halfway in the mud as the water of the emptied lake began to rain down upon it and the forest surrounding it._

_I vaguely recall that Rinoa was holding my arm, crying for me to stop – I don't know why. I think I was about to either go into the lake and devour the creature there, or I was going to blow the woods to pieces and clear them._

_Eden was screaming for it, after all. Even now she seethes in my mind, growling about my lack of obedience and how I'll suffer for my lack of compliance with her demands._

_Ever since that day, those events, I've been having hideous headaches that leave me nauseous and weak. We'd been intending to return to Balamb after that event (I still don't know what I was going to reply to Timber with – what I'd encountered was so odd and unsettling I wasn't certain who I could combat the situation with), but… something happened._

_Esthar had contacted me via my cellphone just a few hours after our battle with the ruby dragon while Rinoa and I were driving back, her behind the wheel as I was feeling dizzy and horrible with Eden roiling in my brain._

_They'd asked that I come immediately to them, professing that they were willing to send an aerial transport to my location._

_I don't know why I told them where I was – I don't think I was in my right mind. Rinoa didn't say anything to stop me, either. I think her concern for my wellbeing was overriding her good judgment, and Eden's screaming in my head was overriding my own._

_We were taken to the capital city of Esthar. We went to Odine's Laboratory (more appropriately, I went there – Rinoa stayed in the palace, not keen on visiting the crackpot scientist with his ruffled collar)._

_Seems when I'd summoned Eden, some strange phenomena was picked up by Estharian surveillance equipment. A surge of energy that had never before been sensed by their equipment had been captured and recorded, coinciding with her summoning and subsequent attack. That in of itself made me worried – with their technological prowess, the Esthar nation did in fact have the most powerful and accurate equipment of any nation, very unlikely to give false indicators or erratic readings like anything else surrounding our planet._

_And it seemed as though the energy spike they'd sensed was a continuous stream, very much depleted in strength but present all the same._

_Eden was howling in my head as I watched images in the Laboratory, staring at a column of green that trickled into the refilling lake and simmered in the crystalline waters._

_The odd little doctor had noticed my discomfort and questioned me at length about it._

_For the next few weeks, he had me under surveillance, using me as a guinea pig for his ongoing Guardian Force research. Guess ever since his research that proved the depreciation of memories could in fact be tethered to Guardian Force usage he's been lacking in persons willing to junction to further his studies._

_What he told me didn't make me happy, though._

_He'd revealed that Eden was much unlike any other Guardian Force he'd studied. She was more powerful than any other force he'd encountered, to be certain; barring that, she was… different. He'd explained it as if she were not of the planet itself, whereas all other Guardian Forces were simply immensely powerful, natural results of planetary forces. Winter culminated itself in Shiva. The planet's fiery magma congealed in Ifrit. Its gravity was compiled in Diablos' might. The king of the Tonberries, so removed from its followers by its power, had become a deity among them and long lost its physical form, becoming the existential energy mass that all Guardian Forces were compiled of._

_Sounded like a bunch of bull to me, but I don't know anything more than Odine about them._

_Anyway, he stated that his studies into the true nature of Guardian Forces had lead him to his conclusions, and Eden was shattering every thesis he'd proven. She was above and beyond all the rest, compiled not of the planet's forces but of a force that would destroy the planet itself._

_She'd agreed with him, her soft whisper barreling through my mind without mercy as she professed that she was the end of the world, her true power dormant until her time truly came. That she was the destroyer of all. That I was her servant and would kill for her._

_He'd waved me away from medications, professing that anything that would dull the pain of my migraines would also dull my senses and subsequently my perceptions of what she was doing in my brain. He surmised (quite correctly, I'm certain) that if I were to lose my control over her and my retention of my own senses, that she would be able to control me directly. That she could move my body against my will, using my magic, my gunblade and her own power to rend everything I encountered asunder._

_I'd asked him if it would be possible to remove her, to place her into storage like any other Guardian Force utilizing Esthar's more advanced technology. He'd cackled with his squeaky little voice and told me that with the grip she had on my mind, he'd only be able to strip her from my corpse._

_So I was in an understandably foul mood when I'd finally returned to the palace after those glorious weeks under Odine's microscope._

_Quistis and Zell were there to greet me, having arrived in Esthar's capital a week prior to report the successful completion of material transfer to President Loire. They'd decided to stick around once they'd learned that Rinoa and I were there, Quistis and Rinoa shopping to their hearts' contents on my credit card and using Zell as their pack animal, judging by the sheer amounts of shoe packages, bags of clothing and cosmetics and other assorted items that awaited me when I returned to the room I was normally assigned when we visited._

_Quistis had given me her report, Zell had bequeathed upon me his disappointment over having 'Quez' in his head and not being able to utilize her might, and Rinoa had insisted that I look at every last outfit she'd bought and summarily praise her good taste._

_But between my headaches, the proclamations Odine had made concerning Eden's permanency and odd alien nature and the strange string of green that snaked through space into Obel Lake, I couldn't care less._

_I need to return to Timber._

_I need to find out just what Eden brought to our world._

_I need to silence her screams._

* * *

><p>Cloud's eyes narrowed as he stared at the only other living being in the huge room he was trapped in.<p>

The other blond bounced lightly on his toes, his red sneakers squeaking intermittently on the metal floor. His hands, tightly clenched and wrapped in red gloves, were held before him and primed to strike. Long shorts stopped just below the knees, bulky and billowing and looking like they were multitudes of sizes too big for the man who wore them. A tight black muscle shirt hugged a well-toned upper body, flashes of extreme definition visible beyond the fists that were held before it and below the flapping fabric of the short-sleeved jacket tossed over it. Blue flames marked black sleeves. A snaking black tattoo, reminiscent of those that marked Red XIII's flanks, slid along the man's cheek and forehead.

Only one thought could process through Cloud's head as he stared at the man before him, his hands tightly gripping the weapon he'd acquired. He'd never heard such a ridiculous profession before – not only in the fact that the spiky-haired tattooed stranger had suggested he give himself up without a fight, but that his apparent doom now rested upon the fact that he was standing between this man and something called a 'hot dog.'

A second passed by, the two of them sizing one another up. Cloud's narrowed eyes noted with a sliver of anger that the man before him seemed almost lackadaisical and relaxed, as if he didn't consider Cloud a viable threat.

Cloud, on the other hand, began to see the danger in the man before him. The way he was built suggested a decent amount of strength. The fluidity of his movements accompanied by his stance immediately triggered the realization that his opponent may very well be a proficient fighter. Noticing the metal that laced the red gloves on his hands, Cloud's mind suddenly informed him that he was facing an opponent who'd fight much like Tifa did – punches and kicks, using the body as a weapon and needing nothing else. The way he danced clued Cloud in further – the youth was likely a boxer.

Dipping the tip of the sword he held in the direction of his enemy, Cloud's narrowed eyes flickered with exhilaration as he realized fighting an unarmed, young opponent might not be as problematic as he was thinking. A boxer would go down easily when faced with a swordsman. All Cloud would have to do is keep himself out of range of those powerful fists and keep on the offensive – his sword had greater range, making such a possibility.

They simultaneously sprang into action.

The sword in Cloud's hands swung in a wide arch, flat turned to collide with the young man he was battling, strength moderated and controlled. As it was, Cloud had no idea where he was, who he was facing, and what was going on – he wanted answers, not a corpse on his hands.

The opponent he was facing wouldn't give him the opportunity for either – just when Cloud had prepared his arms for the oncoming shock of impact of sword against flesh, the tattooed blond had ducked underneath the sword's arc and lashed forward with a fist.

Cloud barely dodged the flung limb, feeling the brush of wind against his side through his tattered top.

He wasn't swift enough to avoid the foot that immediately followed that punch.

Tripped by the foot that suddenly caught his ankle, Cloud stumbled and lashed with one hand to maintain his balance, choosing once he staggered another step and had to simultaneously dodge the tattooed man's suddenly executed kick towards his head to roll instead, his sword tucked close to his body as he tried to not collide with one of the park benches that circumvented the huge fountain in the room's center.

Cloud's eyes were huge as he rolled back to his feet and hopped backwards, attempting to put distance between himself and his opponent and failing miserably as the youth pressed his attack.

He realized he wasn't dealing with a boxer.

He was dealing with a very proficient martial artist.

A hop backwards, a spring off his left hand while his right maintained its grip on his sword, and Cloud gained necessary moments to breath. However, the time he needed to reassess his situation was eradicated as his opponent pushed in, rolling underneath a swiftly executed swing of the sword and punching for Cloud's shin.

Stepping out of the way, Cloud lashed forward with the flat of his weapon again.

The vibration rattled his arm as the younger blond punched the blade, his metal-laced glove clanging loudly as it connected with the weapon that was streaming towards his head.

As Cloud whipped his other hand to the sword to maintain a grip on it, he barely ducked under the foot that came for his face. He took his opportunity.

The mako in his blood, that was laced integrally into his muscles, let him surge forward with inhuman speed and dexterity. With a blast of motion that took his opponent off guard, Cloud forwent the sword and simply dashed into the younger blond, taking him right off his feet.

His opponent didn't stay down. He rolled right out of the hit, his sneakers squealing as he slid across the metal floor, and immediately launched himself back at Cloud.

The green fire surging in his vision burning his limbs and veins, Cloud leaped directly for his attacker, sword leading the way.

Fist and sword connected time and time again, the rapid blows ringing throughout the huge empty room. Pressing continuously, Cloud picked up the pace and speed of his strikes.

The cocky smile finally fell off of his opponent, replaced instead by sheer determination and concentration. For the first time since the fight began, Cloud's antagonist scowled, light blue eyes narrowing and teeth grit.

The fists that came for Cloud suddenly burst rapidly into motion, almost faster than Cloud would have thought humanly possible. His offensive streak brought to a premature end, he quickly brought his sword before himself, defending himself from those deadly punches as well as he could.

A swift backwards hop landed him into the surprisingly shallow water in the fountain, giving him only a bare half-second before he was backpedaling once more when his opponent followed him and continued his assault.

Cloud swallowed his first quiver of fear as a fist that barely missed his head, brushing past his wildly spiked hair, collided with the fish statue that was behind him and shattered it completely. Water wildly sprayed around them and over them, blinding them both as their soggy spiked hair flopped onto their heads.

It seemed his opponent wasn't pulling any punches any longer.

A dash away from a kick that took out the remainder of that statue with a sickening crunch of stone disintegrating into nothing, and Cloud rolled to his feet, the edge of his sword finally turned towards his attacker.

"That serious, huh?" Cloud growled.

"Ha! I've hardly begun to get serious," the tattooed blond snarled.

"Then maybe I should," Cloud responded.

They surged once more, water splashing violently around them.

The metal-laced gloves struck with unerring accuracy, deflecting every swing that Cloud launched.

Then, shockingly, Cloud was hit.

He'd swung for the blond's torso, the sharp edge of his sword slicing the air with a clean and sharp whistle. He'd expected the blond to lash a fist into the way, perhaps to dodge and roll.

Instead, he'd immediately swung his foot into a high arch, ignoring the weapon that was seeking his side, and kicked Cloud so hard in the chest that he was lifted right out of the fountain's water and slammed back onto the steel floor that circled it. His sword never connected.

Just as Cloud was lifting his head, he stared and rolled, narrowly avoiding a fist that was aiming for his face.

He was nailed, however, by the second fist that predicted the direction of his roll – Cloud's shoulder screamed in pain as he heard it crack audibly, adrenaline all that kept it mobile as he retained his grip on his sword and surged to his feet.

Cloud was only able to maintain his feet for a few precious seconds, a sweeping kick taking them back out from under him even as a second kick spun right into his side mid-fall. Colliding with the hard, permanently mounted bench nearest to their battle, Cloud fell to the ground, his head swimming with pain and his eyes seeing poison green stained with red.

His instincts moved him.

The fist that was coming for the back of his head smashed instead onto that bench, bursting the wooden planks to pieces.

Turning sharply, Cloud sprang at his opponent.

The younger blond, still recovering from the recoil of hitting wood rather than flesh, attempted to dodge the blow that was coming for him. He barely dodged out of the way, his offensive surge brought to an end.

Cloud spit blood, his lip split and dribbling, as he snarled and thrust with his sword, growling in agitation as the youth spun to the side and kicked towards him.

Time slowed.

Mako burned.

And Cloud surged.

His sword wailed as it sliced the air, moving faster than even those devastating fists. Tearing through the atmosphere with such speed and ferocity that it was ignited, Cloud slammed his weapon into his antagonist and immediately leapt into the air. With a scream tainted with rage, he crashed down upon the fighter he battled, his sword burning the air as it slid through the pittance of resistance it offered, Climhazzard finding its target and slamming the youth solidly into the floor. A quick stab downward nearly nailed the tattooed blond to the ground, his quick roll the only thing that saved him from the sharp point of Cloud's sword.

Both blonds snarled, blood dribbling from noses and eyes and mouths, as they glared at each other.

All pretense of fighting to submission gone, the two of them circled slowly, both mens' eyes aflame with promises of death.

Cloud's heart thundered in his chest as he stared down his opponent, staring at slashes in flesh that were instantly cauterized by fire and the blood that dribbled from them, those wounds reopening when he'd slammed into the ground. He felt his own injuries thunder achingly against his senses, partially urging him to surrender but for the greater part crying for him to put his attacker down to ensure his own survival. He saw green, feeling mako blend with adrenaline and seep into his muscles.

He was determined to end it. And for his own sake, he realized, he'd have to end it quickly.

They once again moved in synchronous motion with one another, each stepping into a burst of motion simultaneously. Both lashed forward with right hands, sword blocked once again by fist, foot coming once again for shin, hop dodging the sweep.

The suddenly flung fist to his stomach nearly caught Cloud. If his senses hadn't pinpointed the attack, if he hadn't been taking his opponent as seriously as he was, he certainly would have been struck.

Instead, he saw it coming for him. A mid-air twist and a handspring launched him towards the center spire that dominated the room. With a scowl, mako fire searing his muscles, he launched himself from that spire towards the opposing wall.

His young opponent, dumbfounded by Cloud's sudden change in tactics, was caught entirely off-guard as Cloud's booted feet touched the wall and thrust him immediately at the tattooed fighter.

To his credit, the martial artist managed to roll and diminish the severity of the strike – it caught his side rather than piercing him directly through his torso. With a cry of pain, he'd swung his fist directly for Cloud's head – Cloud ducked under the swing, wrenching his weapon loose and swinging it in a backwards arch.

Caught by the flat of the sword, the youth screamed as he was lifted off the floor and flung into the blast door that separated the room at the end of the blue arrow from the circular steel walkway. He collided with it, the thud of flesh striking metal music to Cloud's ears.

Determined not to be caught by surprise once again, Cloud continued the attack. His opponent, after all, was getting to his feet, fists clenched and prepared to resume the battle.

Running full speed, Cloud launched into the air at the end of the walkway that stood between him and the tattooed fighter. A spin in midair aligned him to plummet onto the younger blond.

Seeing the attack, the martial artist rolled.

Cloud had predicted he'd do such.

His foot touching the railing that lined the walkway, he changed his trajectory, instantly sailing right for his opponent. A swift swing of his sword, barely blocked by a hastily raised metal-laced glove, nearly put the tattooed blond on his face.

Overshooting the younger man, Cloud twisted in mid air. The moment his foot touched the ground, he dashed back towards his now befuddled opponent.

Moving as fast as a man with a _Haste_ cast upon him, Cloud pressed his attack, dashing circles around the younger blond and swinging whenever he had the opportunity.

Cloud had to give the younger man credit – he certainly could hold his own, impressively so considering that Cloud was giving his attack everything he could.

However, his opponent was flagging.

The next punch that swung, brushing lightly against Cloud's arm, had none of the impressive strength or speed of the first few blows to land in their battle.

Cloud's eyes brightened with realization.

His opponent, indeed, had zero mako in his system.

He was tiring.

Redoubling his efforts, letting the burning in his veins take control and pushing every last ounce of strength he had into his swings, Cloud wore on his younger opponent, pushing him back towards the center of the room. Soon he had the other man using his fancy footwork not for any further attacks but rather to defend himself, trying to attain some distance between them so he could regroup.

Cloud didn't afford him the opportunity.

Moving with inhuman speed, Cloud's sword striking with impossible strength, he finally managed to slam that sword so heavily into the tattooed fighter's side in a broad, sweeping arch that he threw him into the centermost spire of the room. The metal bent with a sharp crack, a human-sized crater marring its perfection. The younger blond fell limply into the fountain, the statue he fell upon cracking at its base and nearly falling even as the fighter's body slammed into the water.

Cloud lowered the tip of his sword, his arms shaking with exhaustion and exertion as he cautiously approached the fountain.

Cloud stared in amazement as the blond before him stirred, one hand clenching and relaxing even as the fighter's bloody face rose from the shallow water it was bathed by.

"ZELL!" he heard another voice shout from above.

Turning sharply, Cloud's eyes widened.

He'd never noticed the auburn-haired man perched on the circular walkway that connected to that center spire a good twenty feet up.

"Junctions!" that man shouted.

"Just shoot him!" the man in the fountain – the man Cloud could only assume was named 'Zell' – shouted back.

Cloud grit his teeth, his senses suddenly burning once again.

'Just shoot him.'

The man above was armed.

The man in the fountain was getting back onto his feet despite all that Cloud had just put him through.

His fight for freedom was going to be harder than he'd originally surmised.

"Pulse ammo. No can do!" the auburn-haired man shouted. "'less you wanna explain why Garden has a bunch of holes in it with your next batch of cards and flowers."

"Just gimme the junctions," the blond groaned.

A flash of purple energy sweeping from the auburn man above to seep into the tattooed blond in the fountain set every one of Cloud's nerves on edge.

Something had just occurred, and he couldn't begin to fathom what it was.

Suddenly, motion erupted.

Cloud barely brought his sword up in time to defend himself, his mako-infused senses being all that clued him in to the oncoming attack.

The punch that struck his weapon had more force that even the first blows in their fight. The next blow that swung, blocked by the hilt of his weapon, shattered the high quality sword Cloud had attained.

The third punch, faster and fiercer than any Cloud had ever seen, collided with his chest.

Cloud would have cried in pain if any breath had stayed in his lungs. His sternum cracked under the pressure of the collision. His heart felt as if it missed a beat, momentarily held still by the fist that struck him.

The foot that suddenly crashed onto his head, coming faster than even his enhanced senses could detect, put him square into the floor. The next kick lifted him right off the steel ground, lining him up for the fist that launched into his gut.

As Cloud's vision swirled, he stared. The ground itself was surging up to meet him, the metal warped and bent as the tattooed youth slammed his fist into it.

Cloud's body bounced. His frame burned, aching with more pain than he knew was possible to feel and retain consciousness. The next kick, keeping him aloft, sent new spikes of pain surging through his side.

A punch to the head, a kick to the thigh, a kick to the ribs to lift him once more and a punch to his solar plexus left Cloud gasping, incapacitated and helpless. He couldn't see, much less dodge, the punch that surged for his face.

As Cloud struck the ground, he attempted to roll, attempted to get away.

His efforts were brought to a sudden halt as he heard the crunching of bone, pain roaring through his body as a sharp elbow slammed into the square of his back.

As black whirled over his vision, his breath failing him and the fire of mako seeped from his veins, Cloud welcomed the embrace of oblivion.

_-to be continued-_

A/N: Zell has one of the cheapest limit breaks on the planet. It's so easy to abuse! I love this guy. XD


	6. Pleading for Retention

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 6  
><span>Pleading for Retention<span>

_Gotta write this before I forget._

_The dream I had. In it, I looked at my hand and saw Lionheart there, and as there's no one else in the world with that gunblade I know I'm looking through my own eyes. I'm in the training center. There's T-Rexaurs around me._

_Eden's forming, tearing herself free from me. Somehow she's manifesting without switching places with me. She's not shuffling me into that odd interdimensional space all things connected to a Guardian Force are pushed when they either store items for you or trade places with you – she's not overtaking my molecular mass for her own creation. She's forming herself out of the very essence of the planet, leaving me completely. I can hear my cry of pain as she physically rips herself out of my mind._

_The colors in the dream are blinding. Everything's aglow in gold and white, surreal in how bright it is. It's like staring straight into the sun, her glow overpowering everything around it as she fills the training center._

_Her voice screams in my head even now. "You will not control me," she rages. "I will be no slave to the moon," she snarls. "I am your rightful destroyer – you will not deny me," she threatens. "This planet is mine to demolish – this is the purpose of my existence," she professes. "None less worthy than I will take this planet; its life is my domain, not any others'," she roars._

_Her wings stretch through the dome of the training center. The steel and glass that form those strong walls and thick ceiling are shredded. Glass rains down on me. Even though it's a dream, I feel the pain of those shards stabbing into my flesh and the warmth of my blood running down my skin._

_Rainbows surround me. Red, blue, purple, green, yellow; every color I'd ever imagined existing swims around me. I realize that I'm in the middle of her attack – I'm the focal point of it? Eden is attacking me? But she misses._

_Or I'm just in the range of her furious attack. Or something._

_In my dream, I punch Lionheart down into the ground, feeling its tip bite into steel through the thick dirt we have piled into the training center. I hold on for dear life as those rainbow hues form a grid that warps around her massive frame, bits and pieces of the dome of the training center imploding and whirling around her. The glass shards sparkle like stars as they catch the light that pours from her very form, each nearly as bright as the sun itself._

_I'm drenched the very next moment – she's brought every cloud in the sky into a whirling hurricane above her, drawing the very atmosphere to her before pushing it away with incredible strength. The entire planet feels bereft of air and life as her attack rockets the unfortunate T-Rexaurs into space, their forms vanishing in a column of blinding radiance along with most of the training center. The entire Garden's structure rocks violently, her forceful push thrusting the remaining pieces of the training center down into the ocean's waves._

_My tenacious grip on my gunblade is all that saves me from being washed overboard. My fingers are caught in Lionheart's trigger guard. Pain roars through my hand as my digits audibly snap, but remain stuck in the metal loop that holds them prisoner. I lash out with my left hand to catch the hilt of my gunblade and ease the pressure on my wounded hand._

_Air returns with an explosive blast, washing over the entire area. Waves rocket from the ocean we are sailing over, blown into the sky by the force of air pounding back into the area from space. I nearly fall over once again, but my trapped hand keeps me firmly grounded on the remains of the training center's ground._

_All that's left of the training center is a few jutting beams of the framework that once made up the flooring. The all-encompassing dome is gone. The dirt is falling into the ocean. Only one tall palm tree hangs on for dear life, its roots dangling in midair and its trunk leaning tipsily towards its saline death. Grats scream as they fall into the ocean, their strange cry horrible music that blends with Eden's atrocious, triumphant laughter and the beat of her massive wings. T-Rexaurs roar as they tumble into the sea._

_The focus of her attack falls into the ocean, each of the reptiles that slams into the ocean sending colonnades of water taller than any manmade structure in the world shooting into the heavens. The broken bodies of her opponents float for only a few moments before they sink into the dark abysmal depths that swirl below them._

_Garden is tilted so violently onto its side that I swear it should capsize. It almost lays on its side in the water, a huge wave rolling over its top and burying it in water. I am struggling, my gunblade holding me captive even as it saves me from sinking into the sea, my breath stolen away by the cold ocean's smothering waters._

_The structure of Garden suddenly uprights itself, its natural buoyancy thrusting it out of the water's powerful blanket. It overcorrects, and my vision swings violently – first I see the ocean's roiling waves, then my eyes sweep up over Eden's massive form and her huge halo-like upper mass, then I see nothing but crystalline blue sky devoid of clouds. My feet fly out from under me as Garden's backside slams into the ocean, the medical ward that sits opposite of the training center now buried in the water's depths._

_I dangle for only a brief moment from my mangled fingers, pain pouring through my hand into my arm, my shoulder and my chest. I faintly hear myself scream in pain as Eden's roaring laughter and rage pours down upon us._

_Then my gunblade's bite on the steel fails and I plummet._

_Pain rampages through my frame as I feel myself slam against the wall of the Garden behind me, the blast doors that segregate the training center from the rest of the structure having been shut upon the upheaval caused by Eden. I think more than a couple bones break when I hit, but I don't black out – the dream continues in surreal slow motion, everything becoming a blur as time crawls forward._

_As Garden surges forward again, I collide with that steel beam I'd been kneeling on then fall right off of it, plunging into the bitterly cold waves._

_I briefly notice the others in the water – grats, T-Rexaurs, other SeeD personnel. Garden itself tilts again, a huge rift torn in its side by falling debris and Eden's previous attack pouring water viscerally from it._

_Someone screams for me. I can't place the voice. They cry out 'Commander,' letting me know it's likely one of the cadets, or perhaps one of my SeeDs that doesn't regularly associate with me directly. I watch as Garden tilts in my direction again, a huge wave slamming over it and nearly burying it, me surging up towards it even as it comes down to meet me._

_I don't float for long – my struggle to remain on the surface of the frigid water is decimated by the heavy weight of the gunblade my fingers are still caught upon. I fight with every ounce of strength I have. I still sink._

_I have no junctions. Eden was the only Guardian Force I'd had, and she ripped herself free of me at the commencement of the dream. It's just me, natural and human and weak, against the huge weapon I usually wield with such ease. In the encroaching cold and crushing pressure of the water, it feels undefeatable. I open my mouth to cry for aid only to choke on water and feel my lungs empty of air._

_Someone grabs me with more strength than ordinarily considered human. Someone with junctions rescues me. That person hauls me to the still buried jetty of metal that is the remains of the training center. As it begins to swing up and free of the water's crushing depths once again, I use my left hand on Lionheart's hilt to slam its tip back into the steel below me and use it as a brace against Garden's violent swaying once more._

_I hear screams from the ocean as Eden settles into it, huge waves miniscule ripples of water fleeing from her poisonous touch. Death's stench fills my nostrils, wafting from the waves as bodies boil in saline._

_I am shivering with cold and fear and pain. I feel salty tears leaking unbidden from my eyes, trailing over my cheeks, pushed towards my ears by the hurricane-force winds that rocket from Eden's lazy wings stroking the air._

_The person who grabbed me is at my back, his strong, muscular chest against my back. He gently pries my right hand's fingers free of my gunblade. His left arm curls around me to hold me in place even as his right hand replaces mine on Lionheart's hilt, his body stabilizing me and holding me in place even as he uses my weapon to keep his own position._

_Eden sweeps closer, her upper wings pushing once against the air even as her voice tears the atmosphere asunder._

"_I will be no slave._

"_This planet's destruction is my dominion._

"_The time has come for me to deliver eternity."_

_One of her lower wings sweeps forward, barely visible in the horribly bright light that pours down upon us from the underside of her halo. I am nearly blinded in my dream. My eyes water, the pain of the brilliance nearly as terrible as the pain in my hand and the pain in my lungs as they still valiantly heave salt water from themselves._

_Another voice cries for me. A young SeeD cadet. Barely in his second year of training. I remember helping him understand how to best build your compatibility with your favored Guardian Force just two days ago, his interest in Shiva touching something deep within my heart. Jealousy? Maybe – but I think I was proud of him for wanting to befriend her, as her normal complacency and agreement to junction to anyone having faded with my continual junctioning of her after my graduation from SeeD training. The kitten of the Guardian Forces has resisted any and all efforts to harness her power, her wintery rage smothering everyone's hopes of her ever cooperating fully with them, her gentle snowy caress being reserved only for me these days._

_I feel pain in my heart, a cry of desperate hopelessness trapped in my throat, as he is touched by a stray blaringly white feather from Eden's soft lower wings. He instantly dissolves into dust and blood, the fine particles of red drifting upon the deathly winds that pour over Garden and coloring the metal red as they collide with it._

_The arms around me tighten as I cry that cadet's name out, my voice lost on the wind._

_The other SeeDs that are in the area wisely flee, some wrestling with the blast doors or dodging those murderous feathers, some diving into the ocean only to be instantly boiled to death with their screams of pain echoing up Garden's wounded side and overpowering even the racket of the waterfall that pours from her shredded basement levels, some climbing along the smooth and slick sides of Garden to find restitution in any location they can find, far away from the apocalyptic destroyer that hovered before us._

_The Ragnarok lifts off, screaming away from its dock as soon as Garden lifts itself lamely out of the water, the racket of water pouring from her exterior and interior deafening. The red dragon-ship is a dark blot on the sky against the brilliance of the perfect Guardian Force._

_The sky suddenly darkens, a stark contrast to the overpowering light that pours from Eden's very frame, dark clouds forming from nothing and lightning bursting with electric crackles from the heavens. Quezacotyl sweeps out of the whirl of black, her huge wings powering her through the sky, deafening roars of thunder heralding her arrival as deadly bolts of electricity spark and snap along her wings. Fire in the distance streams over the ocean in twin streams running parallel to one another, muscling right along Eden's massive figure and trapping her sharply pointed termination between them right above the waterline. The horrifying roar of the King of Dragons pours from above Quezacotyl's clouds. A stream of white light races through the heavens, starkly contrasted against the thunder bird's black storm clouds, shooting from the direction in which I know there to be land._

_Garden begins to move, strafing Eden's massive frame to duck away from her deadly wings, its wounded frame shuddering as another wave collided with its dipping basement levels and threatened to drag the vessel against the direction she traveled. Adjusting instantly, the Garden rises to the top of that massive ripple, pouring down the side of the crested wave and rising from that wave's trough to soar over the next and move as swiftly as possible away from the huge threat and the massive counterstrike that is coming._

_Nida is piloting expertly, his unshakable and quiet level-headed presence saving as many people as possible. His effort and action in the face of danger is certainly praiseworthy. If this dream comes to fruition, I'll have to remember to give him public accommodation and add 'saved the day for Garden' to his performance evaluation._

_My friends are in the Ragnarok. That much if evident by what's being summoned – Selphie is likely piloting, given how quickly the red ship is changing course through the heavens and racing the thunder bird towards its destination. Those wild dips and weaves only occur when she's behind the controls, Zell having a much more smooth approach to piloting. Doomtrain's rapid appearance also confirms her involvement – as the demonic mechanism makes her brain its permanent station, she has to be there for it to be present. The fact that the gattling guns are blazing tells me that Irvine's onboard, the normally atrociously scattered shots landing with eerie accuracy – that and the fact that Bahamut is awake and assisting, the lazy lizard responding only in times of utmost need (and then with lagging care) unless the cowboy draws him from his slumber. Quezacotyl's presence means Zell's out there, his touch with that bird unnatural – normally she'd have attacked and faded by now, but she's staying present, her thunder and lightning razing the ocean and electrocuting anything that hasn't already been murdered by Eden's overbearing presence. Quistis has convinced Alexander to assist, as his blasts of Holy energy slam into the destroyer of worlds, her conniving ways having wormed her way into the land-locked Guardian Force's questionable heart so deeply that he'd expend enough energy to send his attacks deep into the ocean, far further than anyone else would reasonably expect him to reach._

_Doomtrain slams into Eden even as Bahamut unleashes his MegaFlare breath, Alexander's Holy beams collide with her frame and Quezacotyl unleashes the fury of the planet's most volatile storms._

_Eden's laughter overpowers all, her huge wings flapping and blowing the clouds away. The Ragnarok nearly spirals out of control as it's beaten by powerful winds, barely kept free of the ocean's boiling waters by Selphie's expert piloting. Bahamut instantly fades into obscurity, retreating to the safety of his junctioned mind, as does Doomtrain – Quezacotyl remains, struggling against the wind, her fierce devotion to the one who carries her encouraging her to fight on._

_As Eden turns back towards the Garden, her wings beginning to sweep over and through its structure and screams accompanying the odd puffing sound of people ceasing to exist, the thunderbird unleashes once again, lightning pouring along Eden's huge figure to sparkle upon the roiling ocean's waves._

_The bird vanishes as one of the huge upper wings Eden sports lashes towards her, passing straight through Quezacotyl's position and blasting her out of reality._

_In that moment, the man behind me pries Lionheart free of the ground its thrust into and verily leaps over me. He holds the gunblade clumsily, his grip on its tight and uncertain, his stance firm as he stands before me._

_I can't make it to my feet. The rocking of Garden keeps me on my knees, clutching to the ground for dear life._

_The feathers approach me._

_Eden is attacking me._

_But those feathers don't reach me. The defender who stands before me, his spiky blond hair shining nearly white in Eden's overpowering light, strikes against the feathers that approach me. Lionheart sinks into them, slicing and cutting rather than disintegrating as I fear it would._

_Stray tendrils of her feathers touch the remaining deck of the training center, sitting dormant and lifeless, the power to demolish and destroy eradicated as they are separated from Eden herself._

_I expect the man to lunge at Eden, but he stays back with me, standing between me and the Guardian Force._

_She approaches, drifting ever closer. The ocean below us hisses._

_He tightens his grip on my gunblade and stands firm._

_They stand at odds with one another._

_One, a Guardian Force, rising from the ocean and towering over the massive structure of Garden itself. Eden, who hovers effortlessly with slow and lazy strokes of upper wings whose span puts the massive sprawl of Balamb's capital city to utter shame with their length, whose lower wings trail lazily towards the ocean's waters and stretch nearly twice as long as our world's tallest buildings stand tall, whose expansive halo top is far wider and more massive than the halo that held the impressively enormous Galbadia Garden aloft. A feminine figure larger than even the impressive Alexander who dwarfs the planet's largest mountains, whose golden light overpowers the sun and whose attack very literally tears the atmosphere away from the planet in a frightening moment before plowing it back into our abused world with thunderous might. A beast whose professions I believe – the one destined to bring Apocalypse, to end all life upon our planet and consume it in its dying hour. The true destroyer of worlds._

_The other, a simple man, shorter than myself and clothed in nothing but a flimsy pair of boxers that appear to be the like issued by the medical ward. His frame is lightly muscled, wiry and lank and not at all imposing. Spiked blond hair lays nearly flat on his head, bogged down by salty water, bangs trying desperately to rise despite the water's weight and the pull of gravity defeating their efforts, tendrils on his right longer and thicker than those on his left. Alabaster skin is highlighted by Eden's golden glow, scars standing in stark contrast to its smooth span, littering his body almost as thoroughly as mine do my own. His bare feet curl against steel as he stares at Eden with hard eyes that verily glow with adrenaline, pupils nearly cat-slit in the violent light that rages over us._

_His muscles bunch as he prepares to leap and attack the destroyer directly._

"_No!" I hear my own voice scream. "Stay back or she'll kill you!"_

_He turns sharply on his heel, his eyes huge and bewildered as he stares at me._

_Silver feathers drift everywhere around us, brilliantly reflecting Eden's glow and shining like tiny suns as they dance upon the wind, the hurricane-force winds nothing but an afternoon's breeze to them._

_Eden is buried in darkness._

_Her cackling laughter erupts into screams of rage as a horribly powerful Ultima spell bursts in her center, its effects rippling her very figure in our reality._

_A second Ultima appears._

_A third swiftly follows._

_As a forth begins to form, the empty sky is filled with darkness as a meteor the size of which I've never before seen grazes by the planet, the waters of the ocean surging towards the heavens pulled by its impressive gravity, and rocks hail from it and pummel the destroyer of worlds._

_By the fifth Ultima's eruption, Eden is burning, Flares having formed at her base and dancing over the ocean's already boiling waters before screaming up her massive figure to engulf her entirely._

_I am freezing cold, staring with awe and horror as the most powerful Guardian Force our planet's ever known burns, her form wavering as meteors plow through her and shatter the halo that rests atop her neck and arms, her cape shredded and her wings shedding white feathers as dark Ultima spells rend them asunder._

_The moon in the sky rotates, Hyne's bloodied eye staring down at us all, chilling and frigid._

_The Guardian Force before us laughs softly, her voice thundering as she softly addresses us, the haunting image of her shadowed by the heaven's fierce eye burning into me._

"_So the moon would defend the planet? So be it._

"_I will slumber until my time comes._

"_Defend my dominion from those unworthy of my rightful place, as you would defend it from me."_

_She sinks into the ocean, her light setting the eternal span of dark water aflame._

"_I will rise again._

"_Once Hyne's eye has fallen._

"_Once his power has ceased to defend this world._

"_Its life will belong to me."_

_Those silver feathers drift into the ocean. The entire Garden is still. Silence deafens me._

_The man before me has walked to me, his hands holding tightly onto my gunblade as if he is fearful of dropping it into the ocean should one of his hands release its murderous grip on Lionheart's hilt. He stands before me, calm and serene, his eyes hard only when he looks over my shoulder._

_Those SeeDs who have survived the attack, who had witnessed Eden's submergence into slumber, stare with fearful eyes._

_I know I look wildly around._

_Once again, Rinoa is nowhere to be found._

_Wasn't she the who defeated Eden?_

_The moon's odd reaction, its rotation and its murderous eye staring at Balamb Garden, all are indicators that she unleashed. Her power razed the planet's chosen destroyer into submission._

_So where are you?_

_Why aren't you at my side?_

_Even now, my dream's fading into obscurity. Eden's laughing softly in the back of my head, her voice causing my brain to pound with pain._

_Glad I wrote this down the second I woke up. It seems no matter how much I plead with the treacherous Guardian Force in my head to allow me to retain these visions, she won't comply._

* * *

><p>Cloud groaned as he let his head loll to the side.<p>

His body screamed in pain, the very act of returning to consciousness a tremendous ordeal his system seemed ill-equipped to deal with. A harsh shudder razed his flesh, sending shooting shards of agony along his nerves.

He realized he was cold. His surroundings, the environment he was in, was bitterly chilled. Goosebumps raced along his battered flesh as another involuntary shiver moved him, enticing a moan laced with ache to leak from his throat.

His skull felt as if it was on the verge of exploding, the terrible feeling of the tattooed martial artist's fist slamming repeatedly into it lingering still. His back cried independently of him, every small shudder that ran through him enticing shooting pains to race along his spine. Every drawn breath felt like murder, his ribs most assuredly snapped into a plethora of pieces, his lungs straining against them even as his heart's rhythm labored as a bruised muscle's does.

Whoever that 'Zell' character was, he'd given Cloud a beating unlike any he'd ever had before.

Cloud ruefully noted silently to never again take up a battle that fierce with a martial artist. If ever he and Tifa were to come to blows for some reason, he determined right then and there that he'd simply lay down his sword and surrender. Sword cuts and stab wounds were painful, but nothing bordering what he was experiencing now.

It was only Herculean effort that opened Cloud's eyes.

The sight he was greeted with wasn't a pleasant one.

A steel room, small and constraining, with a solid ceiling a bare six feet above his head, three barren and featureless walls, and bars constituting the forth.

He was in a jail cell.

Now he knew why it was so cold. There was nothing in his miniscule cell, barely stretching eight feet from wall to wall, to hold any warmth.

Cloud was resting on a small, elevated bench that rested a bare two feet above the wretchedly cold, smooth metal floor. He'd been granted the courtesy of a blanket upon which to lay, thin and threadbare but superior to resting directly on gray steel. It's excess was balled into a pillow under his head to provide it some support. Across his tiny living quarters he spotted a toilet with no lid.

Gritting his teeth, Cloud closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of his environment.

There was a soft, electric hum. Something high-powered was running nearby. A different pitched hum, deep and rattling, shook in hidden ventilation ducts. A distant, powerful thrum emerged from deep below. An icy whistle snaked its racket through the thick walls of his prison cell, wind racing outside of his containment. Pages were flipped in a book and a chair creaked as whoever sat upon it sighed and shifted their position.

He fought his eyes to force them to open once more. Rolling onto his side, Cloud propped his upper body up on an elbow, staring at the mess his body had been reduced to.

He was slathered in bruises, most having faded already to yellow but some still deep and purple. Small puncture wounds along his ribcage spoke the tale of broken bones puncturing flesh to him. His skin was laid bare to observation, his body nude save for a pair of ill-fitting boxer shorts made of some substance reminiscent of thin paper and doing little to preserve his dignity. His body was cleaned, any and all traces of blood, saliva or dirt wiped from his flesh. A simple adhesive bandage was attached to the crook of his left elbow, a small discolored spot in its center telling of the pinprick wound that was recently in that location, likely the remains of an opening caused by an intravenous drip's needle.

He heard the chair that had creaked earlier slide along the floor. Booted feet approached.

Turning his head, Cloud glowered coldly towards the bars of his cage.

The young man who'd been approaching pulled to a halt, chocolate brown eyes wide and filled with nervous energy. Running pale fingers through thick black hair, he gulped.

"Where am I?" Cloud grated, his voice bruised and deep, its rough tone surprising even him.

Instead of answering him, the youth turned on his toe and walked to the far wall.

Cloud's eyes followed him.

Beyond the bars of his nearly featureless cage, a simple and dull room resided. It had a solitary table, a book and a piece of fruit resting atop of it. A wooden chair was scooted off to the side of it with a comfortable looking red cushion tethered to its back railing. A black phone hung on the wall, its wiring snaking along permanently mounted brackets to join an impressively thick wire bundle near the ceiling that penetrated the steel wall and raced to an unknown destination. The ventilation ducts, two of them, that provided the cold circulating air were punched into the ceiling of that external room, the thermostat that controlled them beside that phone. A pair of crates stood stacked in a corner far removed from the bars of Cloud's cell, carrying upon them thick black lettering designating them as holders of MREs. A water cooler bubbled softly right beside those crates, a stack of plastic cups held in a bin at its base. A solitary door, riddled with complex looking locks and featuring a red light above its handle, stood between the room and whatever lay beyond.

The boy on the phone, as Cloud couldn't see him as anything more than a teenaged youth, was all that could maintain Cloud's attention.

He was dressed smartly, smooth dark slacks snaking down his legs and falling over heavy, well-shined boots. A pressed blouse that matched those slacks in color, long sleeves hiding the young man's arms, covered his torso completely and rested over a barely seen white t-shirt that was barely visible at the neckline. Flaps of fabric formed shoulder guards that sported heavy silver scrollwork, a flamboyant fashion statement Cloud did not comprehend.

Instantly squelching that train of thought, Cloud narrowed his eyes. That was no fashion statement. The manner in which those clothes were worn, the wrinkle-free fall of everything and the smart perfection behind it, suggested a uniform.

The youth's crisp movements suggested the same.

Wherever he was, he was in the hands of some sort of organization. Either the martial artist who'd pummeled him into veritable paste had handed him over to someone, or he was part of whatever group this young man was a part of and simply dressed down for garnering whatever a 'hot dog' was.

The ringing in his battered ears barely grasped what the boy was saying into the phone. "Yes ma'am, he's regained consciousness. No ma'am, he hasn't said anything important yet. Yes ma'am, I'll have to door unlocked once you arrive."

A few awkward moments passed as he blushed, the squeaking voice on the other end of that handset audible to even Cloud's sensitive hearing.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Tilmit. I was raised to call women 'ma'am.' I don't mean to call you old."

With a sigh, he returned the phone to its cradle and shuffled back to his chair.

A sharp cough rattled Cloud's impressively bruised chest, the instinctual urge to clear his throat of its thick, phlegm-flooded state overriding his desire to keep the sensation of torture from overtaking him. A whimper eased from his lips as he laid back down on his thin blanket, a shiver racing through him.

"Miss Tilmit will be here soon. Save your breath for her," the youth on the other side of the bars stated, his voice filled with only as much assurance as the bars that stood between him and Cloud could provide.

One more thick cough shook Cloud's battered body.

"I'll give you water once she's done with you," the young man said, sympathy taking his eyes even as he sat back down on his chair and resumed perusing his book. "You'll also get dinner then. The upper chain said no food or water until their initial questioning is done."

Cloud's brain lurched within his skull. Upper chain….

From his scant days in Shin-Ra's infantry, he knew exactly what the boy was speaking of. He spoke of his chain of command.

Cloud was trapped in a military instillation of some sort.

"Explains the amenities," he breathed softly, more to himself than to the other living being in his vicinity. "Brig?"

"Of course," the young man said with a shrug, turning the page he was looking at.

"What's-"

"Save your breath for Miss Tilmit," the boy interrupted, repeating his earlier statement. His eyes never left his book.

Realizing there were to be no answers coming from his only company, Cloud settled himself back onto his blanket, attempting to find comfort despite the various wounds that littered his battered body. After multitudes of failed attempts, he settled for the least painful configuration he could attain and grit his teeth, swallowing the disparaging sigh he longed to allow to seep from his ribcage.

Without any view of the outside world or any clock within the relatively barren holding area he was in, Cloud quickly lost track of time. He was on the verge of drifting off into slumber once again when a harsh buzz shook him straight out of his restitution and nearly launched him to his feet, the insane agony of sudden movement encouraging him to remain laying upon his hard steel bench with its flimsy blanket coating.

The youth walked to the door, turning multitudes of knobs and switches before lowering the lever of the door's handle itself and swinging the massively thick steel slab upon its hinges.

Cloud cringed as he looked at the thickness of the door. Even if he were at full strength, he realized there was no way he could open that blockade with sheer force. Weakened as he was by the earlier fight, he doubted he could even bend the bars of his enclosure.

He stared at the figure that entered the room.

Miniscule and diminutive, the brunette girl sported short hair flipped carelessly at its ends, enormous emerald eyes and a yellow jumper that barely covered her lithe body. Thick boots encased dainty feet, clomping loudly on the floor as she approached, her lips twisted into a smile that flopped with each breath Cloud took between playfully cheerful and menacingly sinister.

"Alrighty. You can leave, cadet!" she squeaked, her voice bright and happy as she lifted a slender hand and waved to the young man that had been reading his book.

"M-Ma'am?" he stammered, staring at her.

"Oh, c'mon. It's not like he's going to be making it past the force field we have in place around the brig bars. And with our anti-magic field we got from that Galbie screwy prison, there's nothing he can do. Leave, leave! Tsk tsk, trying to stick around when important interrogation's 'bout to start. Why don't you step outside and guard the door or something?"

With a hearty sigh, the young man put his book down and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

The chipper little woman swiftly locked the door behind him before turning back to Cloud, her emerald eyes having lost any and all cheery sheen, being narrowed and deathly cold.

"Where am I?" Cloud quietly asked, his voice as weak as the rest of him as it oozed viscerally from his battered body.

"Seriously?" the girl huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "You break into a place and don't even know where you are? I'm not buying that bit, buster."

Groaning, Cloud sank as thoroughly as he could sink onto his makeshift bed.

"Now I'm supposed to be the one asking questions here." Waggling a finger in his direction, the girl grabbed the chair and swung it nearly into the bars. As soon as it was uncomfortably close, eliciting sparks from the force field Cloud had only learned the existence of moments ago, she backed it a couple of inches and flopped solidly onto its sturdy wooden construct. "So I'll begin. What're you doing here?"

Cloud weighed his options quickly. They were surprisingly slim.

Lying would garner him nothing. Withholding information would likely result in longer incarceration.

He decided to be open and honest.

"I have no idea," he answered, his voice strained and quiet. "I just… dropped in, I guess."

"You have no idea?" the girl repeated, her eyes narrowed and her expression bland. "You really expect me to believe that? Someone breaks onto Garden and doesn't have any idea how or why they did it?"

Cloud shrugged as well as he could.

"Listen buddy, I wasn't born yesterday. No one just 'drops in' on Garden! We've got security measures to prevent that!'

"Sorry. Can't explain it, then."

Scowling, the tiny brunette huffed. "Tell me your name, then."

"Cloud Strife."

She quirked a brow. "That's potentially the most moronic thing I've ever heard. Like, ever."

A growl managed to snake through Cloud's throat. "Fine. Don't believe a word I say. If that's how's it going to be, what do you hope to gain through questioning me?"

A snort from the girl answered Cloud's question, followed by a grumbled, "Fine. Be that way, 'Cloudy.' Then we'll get right down to business. Why'd you come to Garden, 'specially after what you did to them?"

Groaning, Cloud let his eyes drift shut. "I don't know what 'garden' you're talking about. I haven't done anything to anyone, beyond forcing Reno to pay part of his tab a few weeks ago."

The tiny girl snarled. "You know what you did! Just trying to dodge answering up for it, aren't you? Trying my patience, huh? Well, bucko, you better be careful with that! I'm half tempted to 'The End' your butt, considering what you did! Come clean and maybe we'll let you live. Keep being a smarmy butt, and you're deader than dead!"

Grumbling, Cloud cast her a cool look. "What is it I supposedly did?"

"You know!" she roared, leaping from her seat and pointing at him from beyond the bars, care being taken to not cross the threshold of those vertical obstacles lest she suffer the wrath of the force field that separated them. "What you did in Timber!"

"Timber? What you say when you cut down a tree?"

Grunting, she shook her head. "Ha! Well, I see you won't talk seriously to me. Fine then, Mister Smarty Pants. We'll see if you'll talk later."

With a huff, she rose from her chair and stomped loudly towards the door. Taking only a few moments to manipulate the multitudes of locks there, she swung the massive steel barricade open with a roar and grumpily marched away.

Cloud breathed a soft sigh as the quiet guard he'd woken to returned and relatched the door. As the youth repositioned his chair at the table and made his way to the crates in the corner, Cloud fought his way upright and winced, his hand instantly flying to his back.

"Can… I ask you a few questions?" Cloud quietly groaned, his eyes tearing up with the simple effort of sitting.

"No guarantee I can answer them," the young man replied even as he opened the top crate and dug around the contents therein.

"Where am I?" Cloud muttered.

"The brig," Cloud instantly heard.

A grunt echoed the lack of amusement Cloud felt. "I realize that. I mean… where? Where's this brig?"

"Didn't Miss Tilmit tell you?"

"She didn't mention much – said I'm in a garden or something."

Glancing over, a brown packet resting in his hand and a green canteen dangling by its neck from a tenuously maintained grip of slender fingers, the young man frowned. "Yes."

"Vegetable or flower?"

"Pardon?" he asked, his eyes shining with nothing but confusion at Cloud's inquiry.

"Kind of garden."

A scowl took the youth's lips as he punched a button on the wall just outside of the bars that separated him and Cloud.

The higher-pitched hum that had been so prevalent suddenly dropped from reality. The brown packet the youth had held was pushed between the bars, falling lifelessly to the ground and bouncing once. The canteen bounced on the floor next before the young man pressed that button with an audible click and the hum was reinstituted.

Cloud looked at the brown packet on the ground, his eyes narrowed as his brain whimpered in gut-stirring anticipation. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he had a vague idea. If his vague idea struck true and the packet was in fact similar to what he'd experienced back during his grunt days with the Shin-Ra infantry, the 'Meal Ready to Eat' wasn't going to sit well.

Still, his stomach kindly informed him that it was empty and he was required to fill it. Crawling as carefully off of his blanket covered bench as he could, he slithered towards the brown packet and examined it.

He had no idea what an enchilada was, but he wasn't a fan of the variety that was inside of his packet. Even once warmed by the heat-generating pouch contained within that all-inclusive package, it wasn't overly delicious.

"Isn't there anything else?" Cloud quietly groaned.

"Sorry. Under orders to give you two a day of any variety. No substitutions. If you don't eat it, you get a meal cut out until reinstituted by my superiors."

Sighing softly, Cloud ate his meal.

Time passed slowly. The guards changed out, the next man slightly older and brunet with dark eyes that looked upon Cloud without an inkling of caring. He received a breakfast of pot roast.

Soon, Cloud was counting his days in MREs. From what he could deduce he'd been conscious for three days. His body was slowly but surely mending itself, the pain that would send him to the floor every time he attempted to rise from his bench and meander towards his offered canteen of water and dropped packet of what narrowly passed as food fading to a tolerable level. He could now crawl onto the bench that served him as a bed without tears leaping from his eyes. He could actually stand at the toilet to use it. Changing his papery boxers each morning wasn't a trial in torture endurance.

On the forth day, another person outside of the two guards Cloud had grown accustomed to seeing entered the brig.

Letting his gaze rove over the newest stranger, Cloud felt his mind languidly determine that at least this person was very, very easy on the eyes. He also felt his mind kick itself, coarsely snarling that it had simply been far too long since he'd last held Tifa in his arms and enjoyed her company that he would come to such a conclusion about his newest visitor.

The man stood tall, his posture casual and languid, legs clad in tight black jeans and soft, tan suede chaps carrying him with ease to Cloud's cell. Long fingers, free of any gloves unlike their adjoining hands, gripped the fluffy collar of the long tan trench coat that rested on broad shoulders, lifting it away and tossing it without care onto the nearby table. The black hat that rested atop soft, wavy auburn hair joined that coat moments later and fingers dragged their way through bangs to lift them momentarily away from a smooth brow.

Cloud stared with widened eyes as the man turned lightly, the long tail of auburn hair trailing down between his shoulder blades sparking instantaneous recognition.

This was the man who'd watched the battle between Cloud and that martial artist he'd called 'Zell.' The man who'd escaped Cloud's notice until he'd revealed himself with his concerned shout to the downed tattooed blond.

The man smiled, his long lips twisting with little to no malice. When he spoke, his soft voice colored by a drawl Cloud could in no way place, the thick baritone put Cloud oddly at ease.

"Mind leavin' us for a bit?" the man asked the guard.

"Certainly, sir," the guard replied, stepping quickly out of the room. The tall stranger took a few moments to lock it behind the youth who'd left them before returning to the bars that separated him from the prisoner.

"How'd'ya do?" he casually greeted. "Irvine Kinneas."

Staring, Cloud's mouth moved of his own accord. "Cloud Strife," he stated quietly.

"Heard as much," Irvine said with a slight smile. "Mind if I ask you a few questions, Cloud? Don't mind if I call you by your first name, do you?"

Cloud shook his head. No, he didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.

With a nod, the auburn-haired man grinned. "No worries, Cloud. I'm not as gung-ho as Selphie to get revenge for our friends. Not that I'm not aimin' for such, mind you – I just like to keep a level head about things instead of jumpin' to conclusions."

Slumping forward, barely keeping his tenuous perch on his bench, Cloud huffed. "I wish I knew what I was being held for."

"Well right now you're being held for unauthorized entry onto Garden property. That and your unwarranted attack on SeeD personnel."

Cloud blinked wildly, turning his gaze to the man beyond the bars. "Unwarranted…?"

"He gave you an opportunity to surrender. Don't forget," Irvine stated calmly, tapping beside his right eye with a long finger. "Eye witnesses. Plus we've got video to back it up."

Scowling, Cloud huffed softly. "Got it. But… unauthorized entry? I don't even know how I got here."

Leaning forward, hands on his hips, Irvine frowned. "Well, if you wouldn't mind explaining what you were up to prior to showing up in the central lobby, that'd be fantastic."

Cloud blinked slowly. He was actually being afforded the opportunity to explain himself…?

Seeing no harm in revealing everything he knew, he shrugged. "Fine. I was investigating North Crater. Reno wouldn't carry his equipment to the bottom. He enlisted my aid to put some sort of monitoring device near the source of the new disturbances there."

"North Crater?" Irvine echoed, his tone questioning.

"Yeah. I guess Reno was depending on my strength to heft his equipment down to the bottom of it."

"Huh," Irvine muttered, scratching his chin. "Interesting story there, Cloud. So you went into this crater. Then what?"

Cloud hung his head. "I was caught in some burst of energy. The energy I'd set up equipment to monitor was unstable, flickering irregularly, I guess. I got snagged in a flare of it. Felt like I was being swept into space; you know, no air, so cold you feel like your insides are freezing?" Seeing the auburn-haired man slowly nod, Cloud sighed. "Then there was warmth and air, and I opened my eyes to find myself in that lobby place your friend fought me in."

Settling his weight onto his right foot, Irvine frowned and looped his thumbs into his jeans' belt loops. "I see. Caught in an energy burst and brought right into our Garden. Seems a bit far-fetched, don't'cha think?"

"I know it does, but that's what happened," Cloud emphatically stated with as much energy as he could muster.

"So… you were never in Timber."

Scowling, Cloud grumbled. "I didn't know 'Timber' was a place. I always thought it was a term lumberjacks use to warn people of falling trees."

"Funny that. The initial samples we tested from you indicate you're the guy from Timber. Blood matched pretty eerily close, Cloud."

"Blood?" Cloud questioned, staring with nothing but utter confusion lighting his eyes at Irvine.

"Samples the Doctor drew from you to ensure you weren't diseased. She ran a basic panel comparing it to what was all over our buddy's weapon. Matched up real decent-like, I must say. So if you weren't the guy in Timber, then maybe a relative?"

Rubbing his head, a headache derived of confusion compounded with the pain of sitting upright and the dull thrum of healing injuries seeping up his spine to squeeze his brain, Cloud groaned. "I… have no idea what you're talking about. Really. Match…? Samples?"

"Yup," Irvine casually replied, shifting his weight to his left foot and cocking his hips. "Doc was curious as to how you could've lived through what Zell put you through, much less actually start heal."

Cloud felt a shiver pour through his veins.

"Found some interesting stuff in your veins, Cloud," Irvine calmly stated, his amethyst eyes flat and cool as his friendly smile faded away. "Stuff that's also in the samples we got from our friend's encounter. It's not exactly a naturally occurring substance 'round these parts, partner."

"Mako… isn't natural here?" Cloud softly whispered.

"Whatever you call it, it's something even the Estharian scientists are befuddled over. Sent 'em a sample when you first went down. They've been milling over it and sending us questions ever since."

Frowning, Cloud shook his head. "I…"

"Look, I know you likely can't offer me any explanations. Hell, you can't even explain how you bypassed Garden security. Doubt you can explain how you could supercede Zell without any aid from junctions." Crossing his arms, Irvine sighed. "I just wanna ensure what we're getting from you is truth – anyone can make up anything, you know. So I'm gonna leave you now. We'll just see later if any details of your story change."

"And you're still going to hold me here?" Cloud snorted.

Arching a brow, Irvine chuckled. "You still aren't authorized for entry to Balamb Garden, my friend. What do you expect, intentionally or unintentionally breaking into a military institution? Friendly accommodations? Maybe a few junctions to accompany a plush bed and warm suite? Sorry, but things don't quite function that way in the real world."

Hanging his head, Cloud sighed softly.

"Just be grateful that Zell pulled through, Cloud. If Doc K hadn't managed to shock his heart back into runnin', you'd be here for murder, too."

Cloud's breath screeched to a halt, his eyes springing wide open and focusing their panicked gaze on Irvine. "Murder…?"

Offering Cloud a condescending wink, the man's long lips curled into a cruel smile. "Yup. Collapsed the second he handed his junctions over and the adrenaline high finally kicked off. Kid flat-lined twice before we got him stabilized. You were flat-lined period, but managed to get your own ticker started by some mysterious miracle we're still trying to figure out."

"I… didn't mean…" Cloud lamely whispered. "Things got out of hand."

"I'll say. Doc's going to be down soon to draw more samples. She wants to run a full panel on you before the Commander decides what he wants done with you. Sit tight, will ya'?"

Bowing his head, Cloud laced his fingers together, shame coloring his cheeks and his bringing moisture to his eyes.

He didn't have any clue as to why he was here, as to what had brought him into this strange place. He didn't understand who he was accused of being and what that person had done to so draw the wrath and ire of everyone around him.

But he did understand one thing – his fate rested in the hands of those whose friend he'd nearly slaughtered.

Cloud swallowed a heavy lump of apprehension as the auburn-haired, tall man and his nighttime guard swapped stations and the door closed again with a reverberating clang.

He was most certainly doomed.

_-to be continued-_


	7. Complex Beginnings

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 7  
><span>Complex Beginnings<span>

_The panicked phone calls have been pouring in to my office lately._

_I have to find whoever it was who dared to plug the banshee back in and strangle that guy. I threw the phone in the trash for a reason, damn it all. At least Eden's simply lounging and laughing at my disgruntled attitude today instead of pounding my brain into pudding with her rage – after yesterday's hellish experience and the dream that woke me this morning, I am relishing the break._

_But that phone… I guess I can't avoid it forever – it's my job, after all, to answer the calls of the desperate and destitute and see what services I'd be willing to provide them and how much I can wring from their purses for said services. And to answer the calls of SeeD personnel calling in with reports, seeking advice or clarification on mission parameters and the like. And to ensure that every dignitary that calls this place gets 'voice time' (can't very well call it face time, as there's no video-feed unless we're talking to Esthar's president – and be damned if I'm going to let him know we've developed that technology, too. Laguna would never let me have a moment's peace if he could see that my 'important work' is often origami or waste-bin basketball with denied client requests and SeeD applications from less than qualified personnel)._

_Winhill can sink into a hole right now for all I care. In the grander scheme of priorities, their abducted cattle, mysteriously appearing head-statues and now crop circles and randomly deposited characters crafted of stone and in a language no one can read happens to be ranking right alongside with 'we should probably order more cheese-stuffed corn dogs' and 'we're almost out of Rinoa's favorite brand of toilet paper.'_

_No, there are things that are much, much more important._

_The first month after Eden slammed that ruby dragon back onto our planet had passed without much incident. Only that continued green column pouring down onto our planet, a trickle of alien energy coloring Obel Lake, had stood out as different than every other eventful summoning we'd experienced with her. I'd thought nothing of it._

_Then the earthquake hit this morning immediately after I'd awakened._

_It was centered in Obel Lake. Galbadia's geological experts had managed to pinpoint it to that region, discovering a fault that had never before existed there. A fault caused by a catastrophic collision with the planet, they were quick to surmise._

_They had their suspicions that the fault was not a natural formation of the planet – after all, it had no borders or connections with the continental plates that drift over the world's magma sphere. The crust had been irrevocably damaged by some alien force and now surged spasmodically. The scientific community was predicting doom and gloom over the airwaves, professing that meters installed around the continent spoke of coming aftershocks of enormous magnitude being very probable in the near future, the new fault apparently being horribly instable and liable to destroy us all at any given moment._

_It made me a bit ill to realize that I was very well the cause of this. But still, why had this particular attack of Eden's developed a new fault when no other ever had – why was this attack terminated with a different result than the fifty billion ruby dragons Eden had buried to their necks in the soil of the Island Closest to Hell? Why would a new crack in the planet's crust result in huge, world-devastating earthquakes? That made no sense to me. I couldn't think that the new faults were, well, at fault. No pun intended. I suspected it was something a bit deeper and grander than the simple appearance of a new fissure in the planet._

_Galbadia's scientific society and I disagreed on that thought – they were determined to prove their conclusion to be true. They were vigorously investigating, taking seismic readings in the region and drilling to take samples of earth, trying to determine why this phenomena took place._

_Ethar's gathering of scientists had devised a theory that the earthquakes were not due to the physical damage the crust had accrued, but rather related to the energy waves that still seeped into Obel Lake's wound. Satellite-monitoring of the Galbadian landscape had apparently picked up energy surges, sudden shifts in the planet's magnetic field and an abrupt expulsion of energy that was very similar in nature to that which forms the draw-points SeeDs utilize for their spells. They attributed a buildup of the energy Guardian Forces strip from the planet itself to utilize as spells at the site of the collision lead to a critical mass of said energy, turbulent and explosive. And they report that it still is bursting in waves, apparently building up and relieving itself, causing all the recent seismic activity and the day's follow-up quakes that are rattling the world and splashing water onto Garden's distended bottom levels as we rest in-port._

_If only I could get Esthar and Galbadia to communicate with one another to figure out the truth, but that feat is far beyond my (or even Laguna's) power. The distrust between the two nations continues to this day, harsh memories of Adel's reign, national rebuttal and war stain the minds of all who have enough years in their lives to remember it. Tense truce was maintained only due to distance and reluctant trade through Fisherman's Horizon, both nations' long memories keeping true peace at bay._

_Plus the movement of Lunatic Pandora to Tears' Point by the Knight of the Sorceress, the very woman who overtook Galbadia's capital with the approval and rapt adoration of its people, only served to harden the already embittered Estharian attitude towards the people they'd oppressed and slaughtered during the years preceding my birth._

_But back to the theories. A buildup of energy, perhaps to counteract the energy that still rained upon us from space? Maybe a surge of energy to the location of the collision?_

_Something in my heart didn't agree with either of those determinations._

_I discussed this phenomenon at length with Nida. While always a quiet background performer, he did astonishingly well during training, showing an understanding of vague scientific theories that I always immediately flushed from my head in favor of strategy and Guardian Force handling, for gunblade techniques and battle tactics. Hence why he's granted every liberty possible with the Garden's operations, his surprisingly quick mastery of the art of piloting her and his rapidly growing expertise with troubleshooting her quirks and mechanical errors making him indispensable and marking him as one of my best and brightest._

_I guess I can say that I finally completely understand why he also was chosen to be SeeD during our test. While he didn't go through the chaos and prove himself in battle as Selphie, Zell and I did with our fatefully bad decision to chase after Seifer and attempt to wrangle him away from his romantic dreams of graduating due to heroics, Nida was more than deserving of the honor of succeeding in his goals._

_He explained that, given what the Esthar scientists had sent to us, that it appeared the alien energy stream was reactive with our world. A difference in the photon strength something. Like I understand. Nida surmised quite off the cuff that the collision of matter with Obel Lake that I confessed to (he understands that he's not to reveal that fact to anyone under pain of death, and accepts that condition with an understanding smile), the planet's energy stream that bubbles to the surface in draw-points that the Guardian Forces drag spells from was forced to the point of the incidental contact. He spun theories about the alien photons being of high enough energy to react in the nuclear fields surrounding the nuclei of our planet's wounded crust and bubbling draw-point, the incident particles that churn in the energy spurts that we use for supplying ourselves with magic and in fact define what type of magic that energy spurt can become, causing those photons to undergo energy to mass conversion and spit out a bunch of photons and electrons. And apparently those two particles can't exist in the same place, so they collide and explode violently, emitting more photons as the masses are converted back into energy (that whole energy can be neither created nor destroyed, only change states thing that I vaguely recall learning about eons ago and immediately dumping for more useful information)._

_Yeah, my head's spinning just trying to read what I've written._

_Nida explained that the huge number of these tiny conversions and explosions have been building up a critical mass of energy right underneath the newest cracks in the planet's crust. And that once the amount of energy there superceded the planet's ability to contain it, it viciously burst free, shaking the entire world's surface as it did._

_Sounds reasonable to me. I'm debating whether or not I should give him a mission – go be a voice of fucking knowledge and reason and be a good ambassadorial spirit between the two rivaling nations that flank our island home, and pummel sense and wisdom into them. Maybe if they combined forces and Nida joined them, they'd devise an answer I can actually understand, and more importantly develop a solution that the world could work to either stop this phenomena from occurring and prevent it from occurring again, or at least lessen its impact on our planet._

_The head of Dollet's National Bureau of Intelligence called my office today. The panicked call I couldn't make heads or tails of yesterday when Eden was caving my skull in wasn't overly important, they informed me; the feared espionage threat the representative whose name I can't even recall thanks to yesterday's painful migraines had cried at me about was a non-issue. Rather, they were having more serious problems – the small coastal nation was suffering from massive rolling power outages resulting from the horrible earthquake that struck the world this morning, and Galbadia's geological society predicting aftershocks of like strength had the people in a panic. The following waves of aftershocks were inciting riots and power failures throughout the land, bringing commerce within the tiny nation to its knees. Knowing that Balamb Garden had ears open to every scientific community on the planet (most especially the voice of the reclusive nation of Esthar with their supremely advanced technology and scientific proficiency), they were interested in convincing me to either divulge information or give them contacts they could seek such from concerning the origin of the quake. They were also requesting we roll Garden to supply them with a stable source of backup power to their nation, our self-contained power supplies being more than capable of carrying a large city along with every load Balamb's Garden can run simultaneously._

_I feel for them. Really. My heart plummeted when they told me of the panic in the streets, the deaths at the hospital when power was lost to life support systems before their backup generators could be brought on the line, the terror of orphaned children as they sat in frigid shelters buried in darkness. But really? What can I do about it? Rolling Garden's a bit unreasonable, considering everything else in the world that's going on – plus with other nations requesting the same, showing favoritism isn't something I wish to divulge in._

_I gave them the number to Odine's Laboratory's receptionist. I didn't know what they could garner from the accented crazed old koot, but even with his creepy proclivities he is the most knowledgeable man I know. If anyone could bury their heads in theories that make sense if you have a doctorate in everything that could be considered science, it'd be the ruffled maniac of Esthar._

_Plus that guy could probably give them instructions on how to build a powerful electrical generator from Pop-Tarts and dreams. Needless to say, if the wily bastard was willing to speak to them, he'd provide infinitely more assistance than I ever could._

_Centra's request for mountain-range scouting was revised today – it became a request to stave off the Cactaur invasion that was taking place, three small communities having already been overrun and evacuated. To make matters even more complicated, the sandworms that normally kept themselves near the mountains and centered on Centra's fragmented remains have been jolted out of their normal environments, fleeing the devastating earthquake that nearly leveled the central remaining mass of the continent and are now making the lives of those who live in the villages already suffering from the odd Cactaur influx absolutely miserable, eating their livestock and their children. They'd been wanting mountain scouting to determine if the aggravating worms were still residing so close to human population centers as they once were – the rise of sandworms in the centers of small desert villas confirmed that well enough without our assistance._

_They also requested we roll Garden to assist them, wishing for sandworm free shelter for families and livestock. I politely declined that request. However, I did draft a contract for them and emailed it away for their perusal and signature of approval and acceptance of the price I'm going to charge posthaste, volunteering our services in the form of a full contingent of SeeD (nine, to be exact) to assist them in repelling the Cactaurs and the sandworm invasion._

_Balamb Garden was rocked by some pretty powerful waves, sending requisition requests for Dramamine into my inbox from Medical. Fortunately, being a waterborne vessel these days, we weren't hit nearly as hard as the island itself – a portion of old downtown Balamb City was flattened, the tiny adobe houses not built to withstand the roaring earthquake nor the abnormally huge waves that rocketed over our coast immediately following the end of the rattling._

_Zell doesn't need to know yet that his mother's been displaced and his room is now a pile of rubble. All he's been informed of is that she is indeed safe, currently residing with her sister and brother-in-law in the northwest suburbs that rest outside of Balamb City's massive walls. He's also been informed that I do in fact have a fair number of SeeD cadets roving that area, ensuring that the monsters of the island don't come close to those suburban paradises as they have in other nations. I don't need him any more distracted than he already is, considering the instant manning-hit we're going to take here with the number of SeeDs I'm projecting I'm going to be sending out to assist the world in dealing with their ill-preparedness; I'm going to need him focused and alert, ready to assist me at a moment's notice with whatever comes up when most of my force is gone._

_After all, he's one of the most reliable friends I've got. I need to keep him that way for the moment._

_Trabia Garden itself actually contacted me this morning, inquiring about working with us and Galbadia Garden's remaining administration and skilled laborers – they needed a lot more manpower than they had to not only continue work on their Garden's reconstruction efforts, but to clear the new debris that had so littered their site that it was nigh on impossible to work. They also requested we roll Garden to their location to perhaps provide assistance from our machine shop on board, as their own, while sufficient, wasn't projected to keep up with the work load that would be requested of it._

_They sent me photos of what had occurred, pictorial evidence of destruction that nearly floored me._

_The quake that rocked the world caused avalanches and rockslides throughout the mountainous valley that surrounded the Trabia Garden site as I'd expected. What I hadn't expected to see what the largest of the mountains spewing molten magma into the air, plumes of black smoke blacking out the sun and rivers of fire snaking over snow and bathing in sheets of impenetrable steam._

_Trabia Garden assured me that they had successfully evacuated the area, and that the lava flow, while impressive, wasn't threatening any nearby settlements. The insanely cold winter temperatures of the northernmost continent of the world was slowing the threat of the magma wall that poured its way slowly over the landscape. Even as we were conversing, Trabia Garden's Headmaster assured me that the towers of lava spewing from the tops of the mountains were much lower than they were, more blackened smoke and less fiery rain filling the sky than a mere hour ago._

_I may have to have a talk with Shiva and convince her to junction and cooperate with someone. Her might in the winter of the north could aid them in suppressing the threat that still fell from the heavens and protect not only my people that would travel to provide aid but also all who dwelled in the region._

_I thought about contacting the Shumi and seeing is they had felt any ill effects from the earthquake. After all, they were about as far as any civilized region is stationed from the epicenter of the planet's surge. They may not have had much, if any, damage._

_Then again, being underground and covered by a dome of glass and steel, they may very well all be dead. An entire civilization and race completely wiped off the face of the planet by an earthquake no one could have predicted._

_Perhaps when I gather my team to go to Trabia Garden, I'll task them with touching bases with the Shumi village. After all, I don't really have a reliable telephone number with them._

_I guaranteed Trabia Garden that I would have a group of four mechanics, three electricians and at least ten good laborers heading out at the end of the week, unfortunately without Balamb's Garden itself. It would decimate our core engineering group here at Balamb, but we are in far less mortal danger than our sister academy to the north._

_Pondering over whether or not to call Galbadia Garden and inform them of Trabia's state, I decided that I'd leave such a task to Trabia. It wasn't really my business, and they were capable of taking care of that themselves. Plus Galbadia Garden would likely respond more energetically from a call directly from the victims rather than a relayed message from potentially the safest and most unaffected place on the planet._

_Esthar still hasn't derived anything new about the energy stream that's pouring onto our planet. After sending spectral analyses, wave comparisons and the like to us, they veritably shrugged their shoulders and said 'beats me.' All we can determine is that the energy stream from space carries in it odd incident particles the like of which we've never seen on this planet and organic material that is so alien in nature they can't begin to find a comparison sample in their vast databases._

_They've also been bemused by the fact that their computational abilities and analyses have been hard hit by the earthquake, their backup generators giving them enough power for lights, vital backup and necessary electric-grid loading but not much else. My answers will apparently have to wait until the Esthar Utilities Union can be motivated to get their power supplies back up and the lights back on throughout the capital city._

_Esthar's northern regions had called with issues – apparently the monstrous residents of the Grandidi Forest have been shaken from their territories and are fleeing into the deserts, the recent activity of the planet that was raising unmitigated chaos in the huge mountain ranges forcing them to clash with the villages that struggled for survival in the harsh Estharian sands. The thick black smoke from Trabia's newly erupted volcanic chain was crushing the forest, pushing heat and magma fury into its winter-dried mass and lighting much of it on fire._

_Chocobo sightings have been skyrocketing in Northern Esthar as they flee the fires that ravage their sanctuaries, the rare creatures feral and wild and rampaging without mercy. Fortunately, the birds have been aiding the villages of the north desert, their notorious lack of love for monsters bringing bloody clashes and wild battles to the sands._

_The Lunatic Pandora Laboratory has been populated by the villagers from the surrounding area. Structurally intact and quite safe from monstrous invasion simply owing to its nearly impenetrable construction, it's become an odd haven for those displaced by the rolling waves of creatures that pour from the Grandidi Forest's burning expanse._

_They request SeeD personnel to turn back the enormous waves of monsters that are plaguing them and the Garden's presence to provide safe haven if the Laboratory itself were to fall under attack. I unfortunately had to tell them that we'd withhold consideration of their request until the fires in the Grandidi Forest could be squelched – there was no point in trying to drive away a monstrous wave if the region we'd drive them to was more dangerous and less desirable than the desert we'd be attempting to clear of their presence. No monster in its right mind would run into a fire from a SeeD. Plus rolling out the Garden as a backup to an already viable shelter? I think not – there's other locales that need it more, and I can't bend to them, either._

_Delling is requesting my presence – apparently General Caraway, concerned about the welfare of his daughter with the plague of chaos that's descended upon us, feels that summoning me to discuss SeeD involvement with rescue and aid efforts throughout the world and offering a press conference organized by himself to give us a positive boost in reputation by displaying our humanitarian nature is the best way to calm his worries. Sheah, awesome excuse there, General._

_I do have a sinking suspicion that Cid's going to force me to go along with it, even though he's been silent and hiding from reality during the rest of this wretched cacophony of events. Always leaving me with the hard decisions and the headaches._

_Can't fault him – if I had a dependable lackey that would do everything to my satisfaction, I'd hide under my desk from the world, too._

_Fisherman's Horizon gave us a courtesy call, not bothering to request aid from our already overreaching and overburdened efforts – they simply felt the need to inform us that with their fishbowl city having been buried under a tidal wave initiated by the world-shaking quake that rattled our planet, they'd be entirely unavailable to help us with any services Balamb Garden's mechanical construct required for quite some time. I gave them our condolences, giving them the symbolic offer for aid should they decide that repairs to their tiny independent community were truly beyond their capabilities. Not like we'd be able to do much, but one has to play the game. Or so I'm told._

_If I do roll the Garden to any location, it's going to be Fisherman's Horizon. After all, they've assisted us greatly in the past – it's only right that we return the favor. Plus they were polite enough not to request our rapid response. We'll see where they're sitting in a week or so, then stroll over and offer our aid, provided I have enough people onboard to even get this behemoth moving and provide any real assistance to the dreamers' city._

_Finally, Timber._

_The news reports I saw today over the course of my brief lunch break confirmed what I'd heard from the ambassador I've been in contact with – the monsters Rinoa and I had faced off with in the Obel Lake region had fled that district, leaving the sanctity of the forests to plunder the outstretching villages that housed most of Timber's scattered population._

_Most of the Timber territory is ravaged, villages razed to the ground and those settlements' occupants eaten or simply slaughtered. T-Rexaurs are being sighted banding together like enormous ravenous wolves, forming the most dangerous packs the planet had ever seen. Dragons are darkening the already blackened sky with their massive leathery wings. A malboro has been reported by TNN, Timber News Network, to be establishing a hive a mere twenty miles outside of Timber's capital._

_The capital itself has nearly been decimated by the violent shattering shudder the planet had unleashed this morning. Only a few buildings remain standing, their walls cracked and strained as they stand in silent testimony to the horror that has taken place at their feet. The huge television tower toppled, crushing everything around it with rubble and dust. Hundred upon hundreds are missing, hundreds more confirmed dead as people dig through the rubble searching for loved ones._

_Anger and rage are roaring from the survivors, people screaming for the newly established independent government of Timber to aid them. To provide for them. To give them shelter, to promise food, to hand them an allotment of hope in the face of disaster and despair. The Forest Owls have been mentioned in the news once more, apparently taking the government they'd help establish to task._

_Riots are rampaging through the country, driven by fear of monsters, fear of earthquakes and fear of the still unexplained phenomenon that rained the water of Obel Lake over most of the countryside. People are degenerating into wild animals, looting prominent and merciless, everyone upholding the ideal of 'each man for himself' as they ravaged their neighbor to assure their survival._

_And among the chaos, buried in the agony, I heard the words of Timber's ambassador ring in my ear as I had him on the phone._

_There's someone taking advantage of all of this. Someone scouring the decimated countryside, someone who burns all in its path if they please it. Villages monsters had circumvented were lit in hellish flames, every man, woman and child who'd made their residence there slaughtered like livestock. Mercilessly cut down as they attempted to flee, sliced to ribbons as they attempted to fight._

_What scant video footage could be drawn from the satellites and spy cameras of both the Galbadian and Estharian governments by my people down in Intel didn't show me much beyond what I had been told. Indeed, all it revealed was confirmation; confirmation, and profession that this mad character had been at its game for longer than the Timber government was aware, sightings being found over the course of nearly a full month preceding this day._

_Indeed, the first video evidence we found of this individual started a mere three days after I'd summoned Eden and the green energy stream had begun to snake onto our world._

_A rampaging menace with a horribly long sword, walking with ease and confidence through village after village, assessing every person it met before cutting them down and leaving fiery destruction in its wake._

_Perhaps returning to Timber is in order._

_Rinoa understandably wants to come with me, her concern for me and my desire to plunge into the investigation of what I may very well have brought to our world, to see and summarily suppress whatever wretch was taking advantage of the chaos I had drawn to us to kill and terrorize overriding her sorrow over the massive setbacks we'd just suffered with wedding preparations. She keeps attempting to sooth my anxiety, her presence in my mind attempting to drag my focus away from my possible role in all that's happening right now. While I'm grateful for her touch upon my frazzled nerves, I do wish she'd stop trying to convince me that the truth I'm coming to realize isn't truth at all._

_I think, underneath all of her concerns for me, she also wanted to see if that dratted chapel is still standing and if any restaurants are still going to be operational. And, likely, to ensure the Forest Owls are truly alright, even though thoughts of them directed towards her don't draw any panic – I'm willing to bet they've been in contact with her while I've been working my rear off in my office. I wonder if Zone's stomach is killing him right now._

_I… want to forget all of this is happening. But I can't. I can't allow myself that easy road. Hence why every detail of today is getting logged in my journal, permanently recorded for review._

_I can't let myself forget what I have gone through today as a result of the planet's surges. I can't let myself forget the panic and the calls of the day, the chaos of the world or the turmoil that dances through every nation on our world._

_If all that's occurring there stems from my summoning of Eden, I need to remember it, to mourn my decision, and ultimately to rectify it._

* * *

><p>Cloud sighed as he stared at his newly unwrapped Meal Ready to Eat.<p>

"I'm entirely convinced that enchiladas aren't food men are supposed to live on," he grumbled, his voice laced with exhaustion, frustration and a touch of amusement. He'd been eating the MRE packet food for six days now since he'd met the tall, lank man named Irvine Kinneas, and had been given enchiladas four times. A solid third of his meals since that day made up of a pasty mess that supposedly incorporated a creature known as 'chicken' and was surprisingly digestible if not very appetizing.

"Well, you know the consequences for not eating it," his guard stated, his voice bored as he flipped the page in the magazine he was reading that morning.

"Of course," the blond huffed quietly. "Otherwise I wouldn't touch this crap. It smells worse than the protein shakes they sold in Wall Market."

"Where?" the young guard asked, quirking a brow as he looked over the top of his reading material, expression nearly bordering on interested.

"Nowhere you'd know," Cloud dismissed with a shrug. "Just like every other place I've mentioned to you guys."

A soft hum of acknowledgement slipped from the teenager with his dark colored skin, tightly cropped black hair and mouse-brown eyes as he returned to reading, taking only the barest moment to unconsciously smooth a wrinkle in his perfect uniform.

Cloud groaned as he lifted his odd utensil (he'd learned just two days ago that it was something called a 'spork,' an intriguing combination between a fork and a spoon) and slowly turned it, watching the congealed mash that supposedly was a corn flat-bread type of material wrapped around a poultry-type bird with an odd cheese-product, some variety of granular starch product and flecks of something red plop off of said utensil to splatter with the remaining mash that rested within its brown plastic tray. Scowling at the paste his stomach was already crying about, he scooped a bit of the fallen mass onto his spork and placed it between his lips, his tongue sobbing as the blandly flavored mess mixed with his saliva. With a magnificent amount of effort he gulped it down.

Upon looking in his tray, he nearly whimpered. One scoop down. From past experience, he knew he had fifteen more to go.

But the enchilada would always be the first to go. The coffee packet, bitter and stale and always lukewarm at best with the included heating element's limited capacity to warm water in the resealing packet meant for his heated beverage, was always more flavorful than the mess that was the focal point of the meal. The crackers were tasteless and chewy but not too overly offensive. The odd purple cereal (it was supposed to taste like grapes) was always his desert, the messy concoction ultimately delicious compared to the rest. The remainder of the water in his canteen was always thirstily gulped down before he had to hand his emptied trays and his water vessel back to the guard outside of the bars and their invisible electric force field.

He didn't dare skip a meal, no matter how revolting it was. Cloud had wisely deduced that, being held captive by a military force, they'd not hesitate to break him down to the barest necessities for human survival – a meal every three weeks and a drink of water every two days – if he were to reject their 'humane' treatment of his imprisoned self. While he didn't envision himself remaining a peaceful and compliant prisoner in such a harsh prison, incarcerated for reasons he was certain were overblown to the point of ridiculousness simply to keep him in place for observation as a supposed scientific oddity in whatever parts he'd found himself in, he also didn't want to make his stay in the brig of the Garden that held him any less comfortable than it already was.

The guards, with the exception of the evening guard who had pulled duty for the first five days of his prison-stint, were dull as a box of rocks.

The loud girl with her flipped hair that Cloud could assign the name of Selphie Tilmit to these days thanks to his ability to recall details in cross-talk had swept in time and time again, her questions always harsh and laced with threats promising pain if she didn't hear what she wanted. Cloud nearly found himself grateful for the force field that stood between them, keeping her from mangling him as apparently every answer he gave her, despite them being entirely true, was not to her satisfaction.

He couldn't help that she had no clue where any location on the Planet was. He couldn't help that she had no idea what the sordid gathering known as the Turks were. And he certainly couldn't help that she had no knowledge whatsoever about mako, materia, or any other basic commodity Cloud had ever run across, had experience with, or seen in his life.

He personally was of the opinion that she wore her big boots owing to lacking knowledge about the fine art of tying shoelaces.

But that Irvine Kinneas didn't know any of that information either, despite that man's great patience, ability to listen and assimilate knowledge from his surroundings and remarkably deep intellectual prowess Cloud had decided he must possess to be as reasonable as he was. That confused Cloud greatly – how could anyone not know of Midgar? Of _Meteor_?

Why did they not comprehend his awestruck recollections of _Meteor_ and _Holy_ battering Midgar into the ground, and instead gave him patronizing looks while calmly professing that _Meteor_ and _Holy_ are spells that can be gathered by any SeeD wishing to risk life and limb on one of the two most dangerous islands in the world? As far as Cloud was concerned, it either colored his captors as lunatics who had no clue about the functioning of the real world and the spells contained therein, or it spoke of possible changes in his circumstances he couldn't begin to reasonably believe.

Still, the place he was held in was foreign enough that it had taken him considerable amounts of time and focus to learn anything concerning his locale. After all, his shattered memories never gave him any glimpse of circular lobbies with large elevators in their centers and enormous pools with odd fish fountains lining them, a room large enough to denote the place he was in was enormous and would therefore be an giant landmark, known throughout his world of small villages and insignificant structures. If he had ever had the opportunity to come across a building as large as he suspected he was in, he was convinced he'd have at least vague recollections of seeing it.

He wasn't completely clueless, though – despite the fact that what he'd learned confused him even more than he'd initially been, he was slowly but surely learning about his situation.

At least after nearly two weeks of incarceration, Cloud had managed to wrangle a few bits of information, both from guards and the patient man in his chaps and black hat.

He knew that 'Garden' in this area was a term used to reference the military institution he was currently on. He also knew that 'SeeD' referred to the people in the Garden, apparently all mercenaries trained in an academic setting onboard the mobile base.

Cloud also had, in fact, learned that it was mobile. It had tilted a bit while he was attempting to get to sleep, nearly flinging him off of his bench – when he'd asked if they'd been hit by an earthquake, the guard had laughed at him and told him that likely whoever was piloting the garden while something called a Nida was off the watch had probably just nudged the control rudder a bit too hard.

While he was initially marveled with what he had learned through careful observation, his mind befuddled and bemused concerning the strange environs he was observing and the odd fact that he'd never before run across such an odd establishment or vehicle in his travels, he was also befit with sorrow.

He missed his home.

He missed Tifa.

He missed his family.

At that moment, he even missed Reno – at least the painfully obtuse and obnoxious maniac would be able to provide him with a means to return to _Seventh Heaven_ and to Tifa's arms.

He also missed the oddly peaceful sleep he'd been having before Reno had convinced him to make that fateful plunge into North Crater. Ever since he'd awakened from his painful encounter with the blond martial artist, Cloud had once again been plagued by sickly green coloration with jumbled babble he couldn't understand infesting his senses in his nightmares. The vague sense that something was here, that something tethered to him was following him, grated on his nerves and raised flickers of caution and pain along his nerves.

While more distant than it had ever been back at his home, the alien sensation of Jenova's foreign presence in his body and mind had made itself known once again. And while it was so slim and faint that Cloud could very nearly bring himself to ignore it, the fact that it had risen once again after those six days of peace and departure from that horrifying normalcy he'd had bequeathed on him by the experiments he'd suffered through grated on his waking nerves.

Swallowing another bite of bland mush, Cloud repressed the sigh that threatened to escape him. He couldn't help but dream of Tifa's cooking as he helped himself to his wretchedly flavorless paste, remembering her hamburgers and fries, her steaks and mashed potatoes, her turkey sandwiches even. He was fairly certain he'd risk death by electrocution and charge that force field that backed the thick steel bars he was trapped behind if one of Tifa's specialty pancake plates, dripping with peach syrup and complete with bacon, was set upon the guard table.

Still, he ate without any further audible complaints. He didn't truly wish to test the patience of anyone in the establishment he was being held.

After all, he'd nearly killed one of them. That simple fact still sat heavily upon his mind and sickened his heart.

Granted the man he'd nearly permanently put down had been trying to do the same to him, but he wouldn't excuse himself for the nearly fatal result of their conflict. The opponent he'd come so close to murdering was nothing but a teenaged boy.

He had already violently stirred the proverbial waters he was floating in. He didn't wish to stir them any further.

Without prompting or care, he finished the remainder of his meal and soon set the emptied tray and his drained canteen by the bars of his cell. A mere moment was spent in relieving himself before he turned his back on his guard, granting himself at least the illusion of privacy in which to change the thin boxer shorts he was provided with every morning.

Once his discarded underwear from the day prior was added to the pile of refuse at the bars of his cell, Cloud retreated back to the bench that served as his bed and sat down, his movements still slightly stiffened by the lingering whispers of pain but no longer debilitated.

The guard had barely swept his tray away and reactivated the force field that stood between himself and Cloud before a loud buzz interrupted the peaceful and silent atmosphere.

Cloud arched a brow. "Was I supposed to get questioned again this morning?" he quietly muttered.

"Not that I was made aware of," his guard grumbled before dropping his gathered waste into the empty cardboard box that now made its home next to the water cooler.

The buzzer sounded again, eliciting a curse and a mutter for whoever was on the other side of the door to hold their chocobos from the guard as he walked without haste to the door. As click after click reverberated through the small pair of rooms, Cloud sat back down on his bench, smoothing his boxer shorts as he did so.

As the door swung open, the tall form of Irvine Kinneas filled the doorway and huffed at the teenager before him. "'bout time you got this thing open,"

With a sigh, the young guard blithely murmured an apology – then he instantly sprung to attention, offering a salute to the hallway behind the man with his hat and soft-looking trench coat. "Sir!" he instantly blurted.

Rolling his eyes, Irvine walked into the room and seated himself in the guard's vacated chair. "Now why don't'cha make some accommodations for the guy you've been makin' wait out in the hallway? Otherwise spoken as move out of his way, then vacate the premises?"

"Yes sir," the youth quietly stated, his head bowing sheepishly as his dark colored cheeks darkened further. Backing away from the doorway, he gestured lamely with a hand, indicating that the person waiting in the hallway was free to enter.

Cloud's eyes widened as he watched the newest stranger in the conglomeration of people he'd met in the last few days walk in.

He was certainly the least physically imposing of the bunch.

Unlike most of the men Cloud had seen enter the brig complex, this person wasn't overly tall. Considerably shorter than Irvine, the man stood perhaps only an inch or two taller than Cloud himself. He was thin in stature, perhaps a bit unnaturally so, with slim and long fingers and surprisingly fragile-looking features. Dark brunet hair fell limply around large eyes that flatly observed the world from hollow sockets, the skin around them bruised from sleepless nights, worry, or a culmination of the two. A vicious scar slipped between those tired orbs, brilliant against his placid and delicate face.

His skin was pale, almost papery, as if bereft of the sun's kiss for years – to Cloud's eyes, it was the skin of the sickly and infirm, stretched over taunt muscles and a wiry frame that whispered of strength hidden deep within the relatively scrawny figure he beheld. His stride was anything but firm and strong, rather wavering and cautious.

He wasn't in any uniform as the guards consistently were – however, Cloud didn't let that simple observation impact his opinion of the man for a moment. After all, the guard who was rapidly stepping outside of the door and closing it behind himself had addressed the man as 'Sir,' indicating he was indeed someone in that youth's chain of command.

Rather than any uniform, he was in simple black sweats and a white t-shirt. Bandages raced up thin arms, tightly wound and secured, their white coloration clean and unmarred. Every time that white t-shirt shifted, Cloud could garner a quick glance of similar wrappings around the young man's abdomen, those stained with light yellow seepage.

Everything about the man's stance suggested pain and weariness, from the position he took when he stood before Cloud's cell to the flickering flashes of agony across his face and the draining of the faint color that Cloud hadn't initially realized was actually staining his skin with every light wince.

But the eyes that shone at Cloud, gunmetal storms with flickers of blue flecks scattered among the gray and rimmed with brilliant silver, were anything but wavering and cautious as his stance and stride were – those eyes were sharp, crystalline and clear, and cool as they focused on Cloud with a surprisingly firm stare. They revealed nothing of what was going through the youth's skull, icy irises reflecting any and all thoughts inward even as they scattered any attempts to garner knowledge from their frozen surfaces. Any pain that he might have been experiencing was lost to those eyes, their focus strictly being on the prisoner before them.

"This is him?" the youth suddenly asked.

Cloud felt his heart stop for a moment as he heard his voice, staring even as he gulped.

He'd not expected such a smooth, deep and unintentionally sultry voice.

"Sure is, Squall," Irvine responded from his seat, tilting his hat over his eyes to hide his facial expression.

Humming softly, the youth frowned, his gunmetal eyes narrowing slightly. "He isn't the one."

"Come again?" Irvine asked, tilting his head up and peering towards both the man he'd identified as 'Squall' and Cloud.

Frowning, the man before Cloud's cell turned to Irvine and gestured with a finger. "Give me the stuff, will you?"

Grumbling, Irvine dug through his trench coat's inner pockets. "Sure, but you mind repeatin' that? I thought I heard you say that this isn't the guy."

"That's precisely what I said."

Irvine huffed as he handed a folded up piece of paper and a pen to the young man. "But his blood matched, Squall."

"I don't care."

Rolling his eyes, the auburn-haired man settled back onto his seat. "Fine, fine."

Turning towards Cloud, the young man signed. "So you're Cloud Strife?"

Cloud blinked a few times before he realized that he was indeed being addressed. "Yeah," he replied with a gulp to swallow his anxiety.

Internally pondering why he was so nervous talking to the newest stranger he'd had the opportunity to speak to, Cloud roughly shook his head to rattle his sense back into place within his skull. "Sorry," he modified a second later. "Can I ask who-"

"Squall Leonhart," the man instantly interrupted as he unfolded his paper. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Frowning, Cloud shrugged. "Sure. But you should talk with Irvine first – he and a girl named Selphie have already been asking me a lot."

"I know. They've already given me their reports."

Cloud silenced himself, his eyes widening slightly.

'They've already given me their reports.'

This youth was someone to which those two were responsible.

Cloud was shaken right out of his pondering as long fingers pressed the button that disengaged the force field and that piece of paper Squall's long fingers had been unfolding was thrust between the bars. "Mind looking at that?" Squall inquired, his voice soft yet stern, the very tone of it implying that his statement was no question but rather an order.

Nodding, Cloud lifted the paper and stared at it. As both of his brows lifted, he was startled as a pen thrust itself right in front of his nose.

"Will you label it for me?"

Taking the pen, Cloud ignored the brusque nature of Squall's demand and instead stared at the paper.

He turned it once, then twice, and finally a third time. Frowning, he tapped the pen against it even as he sat on the ground and pondered it.

"This is… accurate?" he questioned softly.

Squall simply nodded. "Please label it," he added a moment later.

Cloud frowned as he stared at the paper. Then he tenuously put the nib of the pen in his hand against it and began to write.

_Midgar._

_Edge._

_Bone Village._

_Icicle Inn._

_Chocobo Sage._

_Gongaga._

_Neibelheim._

_Rocket Town._

_North Crater._

_Kalm._

_Chocobo Farm._

Frowning, he began to draw, adding Wutai and labeling it. Then with a sigh he scratched out the superfluous islands the paper was littered with. He scribbled out the entire edge of a continent, adding in landmasses he knew were in fact there, and labeled Miedel and the Temple of the Ancients.

Cloud felt a nervous wave of doubt race through him as he stared at the map he'd just labeled, looking like a rather pitiful rendition of the worldwide road map he kept in Fenrir's massive storage vaults.

Nothing about that map was correct.

Noting really matched up.

Squall's thin hand slipped between the bars. "Can I take a look?"

Handing the map back with a shake of his head, Cloud suppressed a sigh.

The young man only allowed one eyebrow to cock as he looked the map over. "Thought so. Explains what we've found out so far." He then tossed the map and pen to Irvine, who caught them without effort despite not bothering to look in Squall's direction.

"So…" Cloud helplessly began, his brain whirling around what he'd just learned.

That was an accurate world map, according to Squall. A blank one, but one whose continents and islands were accurately placed.

It was a world map that Cloud had zero familiarity with. The continent masses were in the wrong places. Islands existed where no island should exist. Land was missing.

He was either having the most remarkably realistic hallucination he'd ever had the opportunity to experience, or the impossible had occurred and he was as far from his home as he could possibly be.

"So your story that you gave to Irvine is true. Got caught in a flare of energy on your planet, and got whisked to this world," Squall bluntly questioned, his face registering no hint of surprise.

Cloud remained seated on the floor, too dizzy with shock to rise from his cool metal seating surface. "But… this can't be…."

Shrugging calmly, Squall sighed and looked over at Irvine. "Not like this is the first time we've met an extraterrestrial. I can't believe you and Selphie didn't consider that probability."

"Oh, c'mon Squall! It's not like he's blue and three feet tall," Irvine bit back. "How were we supposed to know? He looks as human as anyone else!"

"Sure does. Guess we're not the only humans in the universe, then," Squall remarked with a calm, bland tone before turning back to Cloud. "Given that, I need to ask you a few questions."

"Go ahead," Cloud weakly remarked, his mind still reeling from the new revelations he was being bombarded with.

"On your world, is everyone like you?"

Oh his world… Squall was implying Cloud was an alien. It was remarkable, hilariously odd and yet unsettling simultaneously.

All Cloud could think of for the moment was Jenova – the alien creature that came to his world, threatening to destroy it.

And now, he was an alien invader of a world.

"Cloud?" Squall asked, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing.

Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, Cloud sighed. "Sorry," he offered, his voice shy and quiet. "No. Not everyone's like me."

"Clarify," Squall requested.

"I… was experimented on when I was younger. Infused with mako and… other cellular material."

"Were you unique?" Squall questioned, his facial expression relaxing slightly.

"Not really," Cloud supplied with a sigh. "Mako infusion was done on all SOLDIERs. And the other cellular material… was… someone else's."

Irvine groaned from his seat. "And there's the link. Why both blood samples are so damned similar."

"Gotta ask the right questions, Irvine," Squall said with a bored expression taking his eyes. "So it wasn't you in Timber. Just someone who underwent the same experience as you."

"Please, I have no idea what happened in this place called 'Timber,'" Cloud supplied, hoping that Squall at least would fill him in unlike Irvine and Selphie when presented with similar questioning.

"Just ran into another person with your molecular oddities," Squall stated with a grunt before looking at Irvine. "Now we know something of what we're after. Get the tapes from Security. Selphie can run the information from medical through the Garden main – we can get an idea of his capacities."

Staring, Cloud blinked. "Whose capacities? The guy you ran into?"

"Sure," Squall vaguely supplied with a shrug.

"If you give me more details, maybe I can help," Cloud replied.

"Sorry. I'm pretty sure we can cover this."

"But-"

Squall sharply interrupted, "Don't forget you're a prisoner of this Garden. Despite the facts that you weren't present at Timber and your lacking knowledge or intent to break onto Garden, you have attained unauthorized entry to this premises and placed one of my SeeD personnel out of commission."

Cloud instantly fell silent.

Turning back towards Cloud for a moment, Squall focused on him with strained, tired gunmetal eyes that left the blond speechless. "I don't know why you'd want to assist us. But… thank you."

Cloud's eyes widened as he stared at the brunet.

Something had stirred in his mind and his heart, overriding the quiet nonsense that Jenova's alien presence always buzzed in the background.

He felt strong, powerful sensations that he was fairly certain weren't his own.

Loneliness.

Sadness.

Tiredness.

Pain.

Doubt.

Emptiness.

And most of all, hopelessness.

Before he could open his lips, before his brain could formulate any questions or statements, the brunet sighed and turned from Cloud, his frame sagging as if weighted by the world itself as he walked to Irvine's side. "Let's go," he softly ordered.

The lank man rose from his seat with a grunt and tilted his hat back to its proper position on his head. "Sure thing, Squall," he supplied. "Just… didn't expect that angle. Only aliens we've ever dealt with are the PuPu."

"Maybe there's a relation with all of this and Winhill after all," Squall muttered.

"Oh, come off it. You know that's just those little blue bastards trying to bilk us for more elixirs," Irvine snorted even as the pair wandered into the hallway and ignored the guard who snappily saluted and gave a greeting of 'Commander' and 'Instructor Kinneas' to them while they passed.

Stepping in with a sigh, the guard shut the door once more, his shoulders slumping as relaxation washed over him. Cloud could easily determine the source of his stress – no infantryman was ever at ease when their commanding officer came through, even on a casual stroll.

Looking towards the door, Cloud frowned as he felt those sensations that had bombarded him slowly fade, still lingering and present but hardly overpowering, foreign but not at all menacing as Jenova's presence always had been.

Instead of worrisome and oppressive as the alien's fire in his veins and the controlling grip on his mind had been, the emotive feelings that were hardly his own seemed to sit in his heart just as naturally as his own sensations, demanding nothing but attaining his attention and desire to attend to them all the same.

Something stirred within him, buried deep in his heart and his head. He knew something complicated had just begun.

If only he could figure out exactly what it was.

_-to be continued-_


	8. The Only Way

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 8  
>The Only Way<p>

_It's hard to believe that we were here only a month ago._

_A month ago, we were wandering the city streets without direction, no threat hovering over us provided we were within the city's limits and far removed from the monster-infused wilderness. We walked unarmed and lacking any true attentiveness to our surroundings from chapel to park to restaurant, arm in arm and careless as any couple in love could be._

_Today we've been armed, her with her pinwheel and Angelo at her side, me with my gunblade, Eden roaring in my brain and a full compliment of spells junctioned to me, every spell in my inventory one-hundred strong and waiting for use. My body was verily on fire, every instance of Devour I'd endured with Eden bonded to my body enhancing me far beyond normal human capacities, every item I'd refined from the plethora of things I'd gathered over time used to bolster my physical abilities and lessen my reliance on junctions._

_Quake to strength, Tornado to magic, Triple to speed, Holy to health, Regen to vitality, Firaga to defense, Double to luck. Blizzaga to elemental attacks, Flare and Thundaga and Water to elemental protection. Blind to status attacks, Silence and Pain and Death to status protection. Mug set up for attack, accompanied by the abilities to summon, cast magic and draw. Sitting in my spell inventory ready for casting rested Full-Life, Curaga, Aura, Meltdown, Break, Esuna, Float and Ultima in addition to every lower-leveled variant of the spells I had junctioned that was available._

_To put it lightly, I was slightly more prepared today than I had been a month ago for the unintentional encounter with the unknown. At that moment, I felt much like Zell must constantly feel to so brashly face anything that would come at him with the belief he was damned near invincible. Like nothing could touch me. Like there was no way Rinoa would have to touch anything within her blood, leaving the power of Hyne to sit unused and letting me handle it all._

_The few rioters we'd encountered, the few miscreants who'd thought to take advantage of the lone man with his woman and her dog wandering the streets under the assumption that we were easy targets for mugging were sent packing with very little effort. It almost made me laugh that they'd make such bold attempts on us, but the thought of their true desperation and animalistic fury drawn by terror would still any true desire to unleash with even a bare chuckle._

_Rinoa had very little enthusiasm in battle, leaving much of the defense and counterattacks to me. Not that I mind – it's just disheartening to see her so downtrodden even in the act of defending herself. Angelo was making himself surprisingly useful, growling and biting at ankles with all the ferocity a border collie can muster. At least he was keeping a few of our attackers off-kilter long enough for me to dispose of them._

_Given the dismal atmosphere around us, I couldn't really do as I typically do and lose my worries and fears to the heat of battle. The nagging doldrums of our situation kept me weighted and grounded in current reality rather than allowing me escape along the fiery edge of my gunblade._

_It was, all in all, rather sad to see what we were witnessing._

_The landscape of Timber has changed so drastically that it's difficult to envision the city that once rested where we're staying, the earthquakes and monster influx in the region having so ravaged the area that it's nigh on unrecognizable._

_Outside of battle, Rinoa's been quite quiet over the course of the day, offering only a few lamentations concerning the devastation. Even our chance encounter with the survivors of the Forest Owls and our lucky procurement of a place to stay for the night drew at best a wispy smile from her lips rather than the exhilarated expression I knew would normally erupt from her._

_Kind of sad that the thought of spending the night with her Forest Owl friends in the overturned remains of their locomotive headquarters that had simply derailed instead of being crushed like much of the rest of Timber didn't cheer her up any significant amount._

_She's still be feisty enough to shoot me deathly glowers whenever I inform her that another plan bit the dust. She almost managed to whack me firmly upside my head when I'd professed that we sure as hell weren't having our wedding in that chapel now once we'd located the rubble that remained of it._

_The less impressive, smaller chapel dedicated to today's God still stands, stretching above everything around it in splendid defiance of all that's leveled the heaps that once were buildings in its vicinity. She's so disgusted with the loss of her dream chapel though that she's leaning away from it entirely._

_I think she's so very disheartened by what's happened to this region that we might have to choose another location altogether. Where that could be, I have no idea._

_After all, we'd worked things down to Timber or Balamb. Both locations were ravaged, demolished beyond quick and easy repair. If we were going to be wed in either local, likely we'd end up shifting the date._

_We still wanted nothing to do with a winter wedding in Trabia – hell, a spring, summer or fall wedding was out of the picture now with volcanoes spewing molten lava into the air and belching black smoke everywhere. While it would make for awesome pictures, it's not really the romantic setting either of us desires._

_Delling still makes her twitch violently. She's simply not willing to have the event in her home town, no matter how much sense it would make – we'd be close to her Maid of Honor, her father could easily help foot the bill and make swift arrangements with the amount of power he holds in that city, and the area's relatively unscathed by the recent global calamities that have strangled the rest of civilization. Hell, I'd be willing to do the chapel and hotel lobby thing if she'd just say 'yes' to Delling at this point._

_What can I say? I like the town. Quiet enough and calm during the day yet featuring more than enough nightlife to amuse oneself until the coming of dawn. It's the perfect sleepy city that wakes itself once the sun sets, rather like Balamb city but on a much more grand scale and not having that perpetual 'college town' or 'beach town' atmosphere smothering it._

_Pity she'll never agree to it, simply because of her relationship with her father. Such a fanatic desire to remain detached from a place simply owing to family is something I guess I'm less than qualified to understand – after all, being raised in an orphanage followed swiftly by induction into Garden's militant system, I have very lacking experience with the concept of 'family' and 'familial strife.' I can't hate Centra simply because I was raised there, and don't hold any animosity towards Balamb Garden because I received more disciplinary reprimands than anyone can count (let's simply say that even I recognize that I deserved to scrub the Garden's tile floors with a toothbrush on more than one occasion)._

_Even if the rumors are in fact truth and my father happens to be someone very much alive, highly annoying and overly present in my modern-day life, I wouldn't rule out the location he's in just because he's there._

_No, I just rule that out because Esthar is a hell-on-earth for anyone with ears that function and eyes that loathe turquoise glass reflecting the desert's sun right into their irises. Plus the retarded layout of the city gives me migraines. I go for business, nothing more. Wild chocobos would have to drag me there by the hair for any other purpose. And even when I do go these days, I take the Ragnorok directly to the airport and take the tube-line straight to the palace. Be damned if I'm going to push my way through the marketplace or wander around the gardens, the skyway or the streets for longer than necessary. I leave that to the girls and their favorite pack-animal Zell._

_Maybe she'll agree to Winhill. I haven't received any negative news out of that region beyond the alien vessels hauling around livestock and stone figurines and flattening grass into interesting patterns. Of course, the reception of no news in very recent times could mean that everyone's dead, but I'd rather like to think that they simply had no reason to call Garden screaming for our resources, our aid and, of course, for us to roll over and provide them everything right here and now._

_Yes, she sees it as a sleepy-town nightmare. But the mayoral mansion is huge and awesome, easy to decorate and features a large ballroom that we could use for our reception, and has an impressive garden out back with those white arches and winding walkways that would make it ridiculously picturesque for the ceremony. And I like sleepy-town nightmares, apparently. The lack of noise and chaos appeals to me._

_The fact that it's likely not resting on the ground in a pile of rubble like her favorite Timber chapel and the Timber Inn she was hoping to hold our reception in might actually sway things in my favor._

_Not that I want things specifically my way or something – I just want us both to be happy. And with the world still getting back up from its knees, if she wants this to happen any time soon that might be our only option._

_Otherwise, we can wait ten thousand years for Timber to be restored. Given the dangers of my job and her… predicament that she's been saddled with ever since we faced off with Sorceress Edea and powers were transferred, waiting might not be a feasible option._

_Our two original sites are pretty much no goes, I suppose. Timber still has that gorgeous park – we passed there today, actually. But it's surrounded by a leveled city that strips the comfortable atmosphere away, making it seem more a bastion of survival in the midst of death than a comfortable retreat to nature from the encroaching mass of civilization. Plus the restaurants we were considering were both leveled in the chaos. The hotels Rinoa was begging me to rent lobbies out of were both shattered, one completely razed to the ground and the other surrounded with yellow cautionary tape due to huge cracks racing up its walls from its foundation rendering it uninhabitable._

_Balamb didn't fare much better._

_With most of the downtown region smashed to bits and still buried in muddied saltwater and rotting sea life, it wasn't the most pleasant area to wander through. Short journeys to assess the damage to our home port were exercises in endurance, trying to get through as much of the region on one breath as possible as to not pass out from the overwhelming odor of drying algae combined with salt and festering fish flesh mingling with mushy mud and decaying clams. What pleasantries and romance could have been garnered from the city itself was buried under water and shells and smothered in noxious fumes no human could handle for any reasonable length of time._

_Thank goodness Rinoa had enough foresight to order our invitations with the location and date areas blank, opting to get personalized stamps and colorful rainbow ink to imprint those details upon them once we'd settled into an agreement. There was no reason to fret about returning the boxes of cardstock that now sat in our suite back at Garden and the sheets of that odd cellophane paper that was required to be inserted into them._

_She also got her Maid of Honor working on garnering a photographer from Delling who'd be willing to travel for a fair price, coupled with a disc jockey who had all of his own equipment. Rinoa explained that they were mutual friends that this Delilah held acquaintance with._

_I'm thinking as I write this that if I can get Rinoa thinking seriously about Winhill, our florist issue will be instantaneously taken care of. That crotchety old lady may give me the time of day if I explain that we need flowers for a wedding. (Better yet, I can have Rinoa talk with her – the sour old puss might we more willing to speak with her.)_

_But today… it's been disheartening for her. I'm not going to bother broaching the subject for a little while._

_She's been quietly lamenting about how far she's gotten, even without my aid. She managed to get a plethora of plans together and had started to make proposals to the appropriate persons in each plot she was devising. Boxes of decorations were making their way onto Garden even in our absence. She was already putting together music playlists out of my music library so she knew I wouldn't be opposed to what we were going to inundate our guests with._

_Her sorrow is simmering in my mind, a pressing presence even now. I won't ignore it – she needs my support and my calm assurance that everything will be fine right now._

_She's just suffered a horrible setback in the realization of her dreams, every effort she's made and every accomplishment she's striven for apparently made moot by the upheaval of the world. Of course she's going to be down. And of course I'll be here for her._

_Maybe once we travel out of Timber's capital city and away from the chaos that's here, maybe once we investigate Obel Lake once more to see if we can corner that individual who's been razing the countryside and errantly murdering innocent people around that area, we can sit down and come to a few concessions. I can let her know that I'm more than willing to bend to her chapel, minister and lobby desires if she'll go with Delling. I can present Winhill and maybe give it a more positive spin, reminding her that with our guests we're bringing the nightlife and party with us rather than depending on the region – the area would simply be a backdrop rather than a participant in the event._

_Maybe I'll give her flowers and a big box of her favorite white chocolate truffles that I know we keep in storage in the Balamb Garden Commissary for assorted purposes ranging from Lover's Day to quick and necessary apologies. And I'll take her out to dinner once we face off with the source of Timber's current travesties and make way over to Delling to speak with General Caraway as Cid Kramer's requested of me. Perhaps we'll go see a performance at the Delling Theatre, rent a hotel room and drown our worries in a good bottle of red wine._

_Maybe that will ease her worries and her tension._

_Maybe it will let me sleep without dreams._

_I didn't have my journal at my side when we were traveling, otherwise I would have made an entry concerning the dream I had last night. Instead I had to grab a pad of Post-It notes I'd previously been using to jot notes from my email onto._

_What can I say? Do an office job long enough, supplies start to have this aggravating tendency to follow you everywhere. I can't seem to be in a room without those stupid sticky yellow squares of paper hovering just within my reach._

_Anyway. Dream. It wasn't the one where Eden's attacking Garden. It seems my brain's decided to revisit the odd dream of that battle where Rinoa spreads her wings._

_I've seen things a little more clearly now. It's not in stark and unbelievable detail like my last dream of the battle with Eden was if my writings are anything to go off of (I can't remember that dream anymore), but it's more fleshed out than my previous notations of it._

_It happens at night. There's still no moon or stars in the sky, clouds blotting out the heaven's light. But the land is lit by raging fires that are consuming a toppled forest that surrounds the dream's central stage. They're evergreens, their dark green leaves wilting and crackling liquidly as they die in the horrid heat._

_The enormous pit that sits in the center of the ring of trees is dark and muddy, slick and slippery looking. The peninsula that juts its way into that black mud bowl is dry and covered with yellowed grass. The sharp spire of rock that thrusts its way from the base of the pit is dry, its severed top laying completely out of the pit and surrounded with the twisted, gnarled roots of trees that are covered with dancing flames._

_Upon that jutting peninsula I can now make out my friends in crystalline detail. This time, there's battle raging. Monsters are erupting from the woods, howls and roars and screams ringing through the night._

_Most are creatures I recognize. The blue dragons Rinoa and I had encountered on our run to Obel a month ago, accompanied by fierce T-Rexaurs and rapidly attacking grendals. I noted on a Post-It that a malboro lies dead at the base of the peninsula, covered in splattered mud. A ruby dragon rests, completely covered in black mud and recognizable only by its mass, in the center of the pith pit. A group of thrustivars fling themselves into battle. A gathering of wendigos, drool shining from sharp fangs, bursts from the burning forest._

_Accompanying them, however, are monsters I've never seen._

_A dark, black dragon unlike the hexadragons I'm familiar with, sporting only four legs and a huge set of wings, crouched on all fours rather like a ruby dragon but lacking its size and impressive crest of horns breaths a cone of odd energy waves._

_A group of blue-tinted tonberries with impressive crowns shuffles towards my friends upon the peninsula, odd artifacts tentatively gripped in their clumsy hands._

_A skeletal draconic beast howls behind them, trying its damnedest to reach those four humans upon the jutting mass of land that stands free of the flames._

_And every monster, whether foreign or recognizable, glows with a faint green tinge that makes them look surreal and displaced._

_Quistis is doubled over, panting in exhaustion. She is able to straighten herself just long enough to crack her whip forward, driving a thrustevaris from her immediate vicinity before she falls back to her knees – Zell instantly leaps before her, his deadly fists flying with unerring precision, to waylay everything else that approaches her. He barely staggers back as he's enveloped in the lightning breath of a grendal and simultaneously beaten by the wildly swung tail of a T-Rexaur; with a snarl that shines white and red in the glowing light, blood pouring from his split lips and his teeth ground together in a manic adrenaline-driven grin, he springs towards his attackers with a surprisingly lengthy and devastating Duel._

_Selphie holds onto Irvine's coat to keep herself upright, holding her abdomen with her free arm, blood streaming down her cheery yellow jumper. Then with a determined snarl she hefts her flail heavenwards, her arm leaving its protective grip – Full Cure roars over her and my other friends, healing the incredible damage I barely had time to witness in my dream._

_Quistis is back on her feet. She casts support magic – Blind flies to everything within her vicinity, Aura to Zell and Irvine and Silence on a blue dragon before one of those dark dragons leaps to her and downs her with one massive forepaw's swipe. She cries out as she falls back, her head bouncing off the hard ground once before she rolls and attempts to escape. I see the dragon leaving her no viable path to flee._

_Then I see the dragon being pulled physically away from her by its tail, a very irate blond martial artist apparently pissed at being ignored dragging it away to do battle with it himself. A verbal confrontation erupts between Zell and Irvine as the dragon suddenly topples over, its head shattered by a precision shot of Pulse Ammo._

_Irvine's auburn hair, stained ruby by blood that had previously tainted it from a scalp wound, swings around his shoulders as he rapidly fires into the flame-obscured night. A plethora of monstrous screams and roars of pain light the night as he burns through his hefty ammunition supply, the only lull in the explosive expulsions of Exeter being the bare scrap of seconds he needs to reload his massive gun._

_While my friends handle themselves quite beautifully, Selphie's carefully chosen spell to use during her Limit Break bringing them back from the brink of death and giving them a fighting chance against all that attacks them, the figure in that pit stands removed from all of the activity above._

_The same blond in my dream of Eden._

_Dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt rather than a pair of boxers issued by Medical, less soaked and with hair more wildly spiked towards the heavens, but the same man._

_He stares at the spire that juts from the ground even as he stands in the sinking and soppy mud at the base of the pit, his boots or shoes or whatever protects his feet lost to my vision as they are buried in soft fluid muck. His eyes are brilliant and blue, very nearly glowing and bordering on cat-slit as they are in the dream where he faces off with Eden. He holds a huge sword in his right hand, something I now recognize as a greatsword issued by Garden – it appears to be a quality weapon; nothing spectacular, but quite superior to the rather cheap blades issued to the students who choose them as their primary weapons. With a blade nearing 150cm in length and a 45cm hilt, it was a beastly weapon to wield, its only saving grace being its impressive balance that made it ungodly easy to swing provided you had the junctioned strength to wield it with any sort of precision._

_That enormous sword's edge is resting upon the ground, though, the stranger apparently exhausted. A sheen of sweat lights his visible skin and plasters his white shirt to his body. His chest heaves as he draws gasps of air._

_Atop the spire, focal to the stranger's attention, is that figure I still can't recognize. It still is covered in shadow, indiscernible to my mind's eye. Squared shoulders suggest male despite its small and unassuming build._

_Finally, I can recognize the remaining figure in the dream. The man before the blond that I saw in my dream of Eden. The tall being with his haughty and proud stance carrying his ridiculously long sword and his twisted smile. The man with the long pale hair that flows in the wind and flaps like a lazy flag and the black trench coat that clings to a muscular frame._

_It is the man from the security videos. The man who's been ravaging Timber in its moments of weakness, murdering its frighten people like lambs fit only for slaughter._

_Two spires erupt from the pit, the first spire crumbling and falling to dust even as the blond and that murderous beast I'm seeking even now collide. Spells fall from the heavens – an Ultima pulverizes the jutting peninsula of land my friends battle upon even as the faint blue light of a shell streams down in a race to beat that Ultima to its target. Dust explodes from that area along with blood and smoke, pieces of monster flying in graphic detail._

_The dark figure I can't identify slices away the top of one of the spires, landing hard upon it in a blast of dust telling of the harshness of the impact._

_The other spire's top simply disintegrates, gracefully ceasing to exist rather than clumsily pounding down into the base of the pit as the previous spire's pinnacle had._

_Rinoa alights onto it, her white wings curled around her delicate body, her beautiful face glowing with sadness colored by rage._

_Sparks light from the dead pit below her and the figure who stand upon their spires, erupting from two massive swords colliding with one another. The battle between the strangers rages, each of them seeming to press towards a spire. Again and again the two meet in my dream, neither relenting, neither giving, each grinding their teeth and snarling as they attempt to reach their destination and struggle to keep their opponents away from their respective charges._

_I know what they are – they are Knights, trying to defend their Sorceress. Or Sorcerer in this case. Only… I am missing. Rinoa has another man defending her._

_Perhaps I've died. Perhaps I've displeased her, and she's taken up another Knight. Perhaps I'm severely injured and unable to attend to her, and one of the combatants in the pit is taking my place. Perhaps after we wed, she chose to put another's life in danger rather than mine with the task of defending her against the world._

_Rather than pondering my whereabouts any further, I simply return my focus to Rinoa._

_Rinoa, her wings spread, her kind face twisted in anguish, her doe eyes glowing with some unnatural poison, her hand thrust forward and magic burning her fingers._

_The dark figure across from her, the only feature not lit by the magnificent illumination of her pure Sorceress' wings, lifts a hand, the Flare that she hurls careening off an instantly raised Shell spell of unmatched power. The spell she casts rapes the land around them, blasting into the remains of wood and pit, sending rocks hurtling into the air and flames springing from the dead forest. Every sound is enveloped in every dream I experienced by the powerful explosion as it careens through the planet's atmosphere._

_As with my last dream, that's when silver wings burst from the back of her opponent, soft and long and full and shining as the light cast by Rinoa's presence illuminates them yet failing to cast any light of their own. The figure in shadow, gunmetal wings stretched, extends its hand towards her._

_This time, I see that my friends survive the Ultima. The ground around them is untouched in a perfect circle, encased by a hastily hurled Shell from the looks of it. The few monsters that were caught in the protective spell are being pummeled by their combined might. They redouble their efforts against the next wave that seeps from the flaming forest, Quistis and Selphie and Zell combining their forces to face them and leaving Irvine to take aim at the strangers who make up the rest of the scene. He makes no move, simply peering along his gun's sites to follow the action in the base of the pit, cautious glances carrying his attention to the man atop the spire opposite of Rinoa._

_I notice that my friends are making no effort to help Rinoa. Why not? Why would Selphie not leap to her friend's defense? Why would Quistis not bother running to her aid? Why would Zell focus his attention on defending Quistis rather than bolting to Rinoa's side, when she's in the far greater danger? Why is Irvine not taking any shots at her attacker?_

_I know he's failed before when firing upon a Sorceress (or in this dream, it would be a Sorcerer?) but that was because she noticed him. This target isn't paying a lick of attention to my friends._

_Magic envelops the dream, explosions of what I could only assume were colliding Meltdowns of enormous might blinding me to everything that could be occurring. The clouds are stripped. The red eye of the moon glowers upon the land. The stars hide in the black of the night. The combatants in the pit continue to strive to reach the two whose magic made the very planet shudder and cry in pain._

_Rinoa cries out in my dream, her wings folding for a moment before she takes to the air and releases her pinwheel, striking the ground at the feet of her silver-winged opponent and channeling a Tornado spell through it to strike that figure without awareness. Silver feathers fly errantly to blend with white, reflecting the piercing light that those pure feathers cast._

_The two swordsmen in the pit clash violently even as Rinoa and her opponent take to the air, wings beating mightily upon the wind and the moon itself bursts into crimson tears as they draw their power from Hyne himself._

_The streams of light that pour from the moon light the area as brilliantly as the sun would, the odd backdrop of night and black combined with white and the roaring oranges of fire making it a haunting parody of day. Feathers float upon the wind as spells light the heavens, the Sorcerer and Rinoa clashing with impossible speed against one another, wings veritably glowing in the rays that illuminate the land._

_Suddenly, the pale-haired stranger bursts from the pit, his rapid trajectory giving the illusion of flight – the blond is right on his heels, huge sword gripped in both hands and murder upon his delicate face._

_The winged combatants swing low enough in the air that all four figures – the two I recognize to be Knights and the Sorcery-laden individuals – come together as one. I can't determine what's happening at all, the light from the moon overpowering my dream-granted senses._

_The sudden crack of Exeter firing brings my dream to an end._

_Who was Irvine firing upon?_

_Who are the Knights?_

_Who is the Sorcerer?_

_Why is it these damned 'prophetic dreams' are bringing up more questions than they answer?_

_Whatever they're trying to portray, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of Eden giving me glimpses of probable futures without any comfort or resolution. I'm tired of her laughter as my heart thunders with worry every time I read about my nighttime visions._

_I want her gone. I want this over with. I want to go back to how life used to be. I want to get back to arguing over caterers and chapels and how the Forest Owls annoy the piss out of me._

_Maybe once we finish up this sortie in Timber, once we put down the beast in his black trench coat that I've seen in my dream, we can go back to the status quo._

_After all, if he's dead, the future I've been dreaming of can't come to reality._

_She won't face off with a silver-winged Sorcerer without me there to defend her._

_She will never be without me at her side._

* * *

><p>Cloud sighed as he sat in his cell, stirring his spork in the most hated of the MREs he'd received to date – the Veggie and Cheese Omelet. It was a meal so horrible that the guard had cringed when he'd drawn it out of the crate and offered it with a sigh, professing that if there weren't security cameras around and he didn't fear reprimand that he'd swap it out for a different choice despite his orders to give the prisoner the first MRE he happened to grab.<p>

It had been a full day since he'd met the apparent Commander of the Garden he was imprisoned upon, and Cloud still couldn't shake the image of him out of his head. He couldn't begin to fathom what was so fascinating about the brunet that the boy still held his attention.

He hadn't been the most impressive person to look at.

He was short. Not so short as the youth named Zell that had kicked the ever-livid snot out of Cloud when he'd first arrived and not so short as Cloud himself, but not nearly equaling the vast majority of the guards who'd stood watch over the brig's sole occupied cell or the auburn-haired man with his lazy drawl that came in from time to time. To add to his diminutive height as compared to most of his comrades, he wasn't impressively muscled, lacking that chiseled look that the martial artist Cloud had battled carried. He was thin, wiry and all around delicate looking, so frail and fragile that he appeared to be susceptible to the might of a good breeze.

He was rather plain. Nothing about his features really shone as incredibly impressive. Brunet hair wasn't eye-catching, especially not in the lazy and haphazard cut he sported. While it looked soft and clean, it wasn't long and shimmering nor cut in an intriguing fashion. It was just… there. And while those eyes, gunmetal flecked with azure that would instantly capture anyone's attention were incredible in coloration, their tired and dull sheen was a deterrent Cloud couldn't overcome. The clothing he sported was unimpressive to say the least, simple black sweatpants accompanying a white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black sneakers of a brand Cloud didn't recognize and indeed couldn't owing to his lacking familiarity with the very planet he was on.

He was injured, yes, but didn't appear to be in mortal danger. The bandages around both of his arms were rather clean, hinting that whatever lay behind them was healing nicely. The wrap around his abdomen didn't seem to hinder him greatly. He moved tenderly and cautiously, but wasn't nearly as stiff and tearful as Cloud had been when he'd awakened – Cloud couldn't ascribe those bandages as anything that could maintain his worry and attention, therefore they couldn't be attributed with his inability to shuck the image of the young man from his thoughts.

There was nothing that Cloud could classify as exceptionally memorable about the young man named Squall Leonhart. Yet for some odd reason, he couldn't get him out of his mind.

Whenever he reflected on the stalwart Commander, his heart stirred within his breast, those sensations he couldn't pinpoint the origin of welling into being from the base of his mind.

That odd sensation of hopelessness, emptiness and sorrow would wash over his senses, foreign and alien yet not stirring any vestige of discomfort in Cloud's being.

Throughout the morning, those sensations had been added to, though the new additions were fleeting in comparison with the apparent permanence of the three feelings that remained a constant whenever Cloud's mind drifted to the brunet. Shortly after his guard had been relieved and a new teenager had seated himself upon the wooden chair beyond the cell's bars, Cloud's mind had felt an alien anger accompanied by exasperation and frustration that were entirely segregated from his current emotional state. Those new sensations had faded an indeterminate amount of time later, only to come back in force a few moments after drifting away and then fade once more into obscurity.

Cloud frowned as he lowered his spork to his tray, having taken a bite of food without realizing it.

It wasn't the first time he'd felt something that wasn't him within his skull.

Indeed, when he'd drifted into Sephiroth's control, the chosen of Jenova having used the common link they carried in the form of her cellular material in their veins and flesh to grip his mind and move him without his consent, Cloud had felt everything that was drifting through the imprisoned SOLDIER's thoughts. He had been the General's puppet, moving according to his whims, incapable of resisting the urges that took hold of his body and forced him to accommodate the desires of his master.

The emotions of the elder SOLDIER had burned in his mind and his heart, driving him to do what he had done without control over himself.

Even at that moment he could feel the same sensation to an extent, the burn that was Jenova's consciousness carried by the cells he'd been injected with slithering through his construct. The roiling fury that was the alien's presence always seared him, boiling in his very blood. That voice, those emotions, were simply quieter and further removed here than they'd ever been upon his home world, barring the final week he'd spent on the planet he knew as his own before his impromptu journey.

But this….

He could tell the emotions he felt, those extra sensations that sat quietly and unassuming at the base of his being, were not his own. They were an added burden, much like the odd fury and amusement that he recognized as Jenova's were. However they were far different than any additional presence he'd ever experienced before – rather than attempting to override him, to drive him away from his base of who he was, they sat quietly in the corner of his mind as if too shy and unassuming to ask for recognition. As a matter of fact, if Cloud turned his attention away from that additional batch of emotion within his head and his heart, they'd fade from his conscious ability to sense them.

Shaking his head sharply, he gagged as he swallowed a new mouthful of omelet.

"Sorry," the young guard offered from the other side of the bars.

Coughing once to clear his pallet, Cloud sighed. "Not your fault. At least it's giving me a reason to appreciate those enchiladas."

Even as the guard chuckled and shook his head, Cloud took a bite of his cracker to cleanse his palate before venturing towards the omelet once again.

Then, without warning, a sensation of sheer panic overrode him.

Blinking sharply, Cloud's breath caught in his throat. Putting his tray down he rose to his feet and stared upwards, his eyes taking in the sight of the ceiling and nothing more.

Pondering what he was doing, Cloud brought his hand to his head, scratching errantly at his skull.

"Everything alright?" his guard asked.

"Yeah," Cloud replied uncertainly. "Just… got a weird feeling. I can't explain it."

With a noncommittal shrug, the youth went back to reading the book that seemed to get passed between all of the guards.

Sighing as he sat back down, trying to ignore the sensation of panic that was being supplemented by anger and assurance, Cloud shook his head then smiled at the guard, his expression timid and guarded. "So is it any good?"

"Pardon?" the young man asked, arching a brow and looking over at Cloud.

"That book."

"Oh!" Laughing lightly, he closed it and patted the cover tenderly, the fanciful script's significance lost on Cloud. "It's the rule book for SeeD personnel. We're expected to be well versed in this stuff, so… well, guarding you isn't all that stimulating, you know? Got to pass the time, and studying is a good way to do just that."

"Got'cha," Cloud offered, trying to ignore the growing volume of the sensations that weren't his own screaming in his mind.

When astute fear suddenly interjected itself in the mixture, Cloud was once again off his bench and staring at the ceiling.

Somehow, he knew those sensations were coming from somewhere above him.

Then without warning, the room suddenly went off-kilter.

With a frightened yelp, Cloud tried to get a grip on the flooring even as he slid down it rapidly. His fingers failed to find purchase before he slammed into the hard wall opposite of the bars that opened to the brig's common area.

His guard screamed as he likewise was knocked off his feet and slid.

Cloud's eyes sprang wide open as he watched the young man plow into the bars, the electric force field that separated them sparking brilliantly, roaring crackling almost overpowering the cries of the young man as he was electrocuted. Reaching up for him out of reflex, Cloud barely recognized that it was his own voice yelling profanities.

The boy ceased to shudder and twitch, lying limply atop the bars as they continued to spark. The smell of burning flesh and hair began to fill the air.

A thunderous explosion suddenly blasted outside, deafeningly loud and threatening to rupture Cloud's sensitive eardrums. The entire structure around Cloud shook violently then groaned as if in pain as it swung in the opposing direction.

As the young guard's body fell away from the bars and started to slide across the floor to return to the table he'd been at, Cloud screamed and flailed as he began to skid towards the deadly bars of his cell. He lashed out with a hand, barely managing to catch the leg of his bench-turned-bed that was closest to the back wall of his prison.

Gritting his teeth, he held onto that bench's leg for dear life, curling his body in upon itself to keep his legs from getting anywhere close to that horribly powerful force field that now lay below him. The sound of something metal colliding with metal rang through the cell, followed by another brilliant clanging sound and then the sound of metal debris raining on the outer wall of the brig.

Cloud barely suppressed a shriek, expending his startled energy to swing himself fully under his bench rather than let his exclamation loose from his lips as a huge beam of metal punched into his cell followed by a veritable waterfall of saltwater. Closing his eyes against the barrage, he coughed and sputtered as he was caught into the sudden inrush, trying to ignore the sounds of sparkling and crackling behind him.

The sound of the force field snapping violently in the rain of saltwater gave way to the smell of fire as it gave way, letting the water that was rapidly filling Cloud's tiny living space flood into the entire brig complex. Within moments, water had filled everything up to the head of Cloud's makeshift bed.

Kicking as water began to swirl around his ankles and calves, Cloud found he couldn't contain the sheer panic that overrode his senses. The ground swayed dizzily beneath him, the water rushed towards him, and he found himself barreling head first towards the now shredded wall of his prison cell, his grip on his bench's leg all that prevented him from slamming face first into sharp shrapnel.

Narrowing his eyes, Cloud stared at the huge rift in the wall. Then his eyes sprang open as he beheld what lay beyond what had been his reality since he'd awakened after his initial fight upon this foreign world.

He was over a huge expanse of water. He saw no land at all. Water was splattering into that expanse, churning it violently, pouring out of the hole he was within and likely pouring off the sides of the mobile Garden he was still upon.

Bodies were floating in that water, some still living, many now dead. Light sparkled upon the faces of both the corpses and the struggling survivors, brilliant and domineering beyond any natural sunlight Cloud had ever seen.

Even as Cloud began to relegate his panic, taking a deep breath free of seawater to clear his mind and tightening his grip upon his bench leg even as the ground began to far-too-swiftly level itself back out and become horizontal once again, the foreign sensation of astute fear Cloud realized wasn't his own surged forth in his mind.

Without consciously realizing it, Cloud had released his grip on the bench leg and crawled to the hole in his prison cell's wall. Staring out of it, he felt his heart leap in panic within his chest.

He saw that brunet he'd not been able to shuck from his mind in the water, struggling against the waves, his right hand holding a huge and odd weapon and his left valiantly attempting to keep him afloat.

Then he saw Squall sink beneath the next huge wave that washed over him.

Cloud cursed even as he leapt from his cell and dove into the roiling waves below.

The shock of cold roared through his frame, nearly paralyzing him as it overtook his senses. His muscles instantly clenched as the chill of the water inundated him, threatening to overtake him completely. Cloud forced his eyes open, glaring into the depths, ignoring the sting of salt upon his nerves.

He swam with every iota of strength he had, plowing his way rapidly down into the fathomless sea, striving as swiftly as he could for the source of the string of bubbles he was chasing with all of his might. After what seemed to be eons to Cloud's aching lungs and frigid body, he finally touched thin fingers that were blindly grasping for aid.

Cloud swiftly wrapped his hand around that thin appendage that was begging for him, wrenching it towards his body before his other hand located the young brunet's chest and hauled him close. A few moments of panic flitted through him before he recalled which way was up and powered his way towards air.

As Cloud swam, the huge Garden he could finally begin to make out through the deep yet crystal clear waters that buried him began to swing back towards him once again. With a buried growl he swam swiftly, trying to put some distance between him and what he saw was coming.

He very nearly made it.

The jutting shards of metal that once made up a portion of the mobile Garden plowed into the water, the displacement shoving Cloud deeper into the waters than he already was. His lungs cried for air as he struggled against the sudden currents, blindly pawing at the water with his one free hand, the other arm curling more tightly around the chest of the young man he was intent on rescuing.

Suddenly, the metal was drawing out of the water.

The Garden was correcting its position. Cloud realized his sudden opportunity.

Grabbing with his free hand, Cloud hung on for dear life, his eyes clenching themselves shut and his stomach reeling at the sudden shift in his position. Battling vertigo, he took a draw of suddenly welcome air as the chill of the water left him and he was instantly frozen by the atmosphere that rested above those cold waves.

Just as he started to slide off that thin jetty of metal he was kneeling on, the young man he was rescuing grabbed the blade he held with his right hand with both and slammed it heavily against the beam, its tip biting firmly into steel and holding tight. Cloud's tightly maintained grip on Squall's thin body brought them both to a halt, their sliding abated by the blade's firm hold on their perilous foundation, the young brunet's grip deathly tight upon the weapon's hilt in an effort to save them both.

Cloud pried his eyes open, looking at the body he'd plucked out of the ocean.

Squall was shivering, his teeth chattering and his gray eyes huge. His thin body was soaked to the bone, violent shudders racing through his pale flesh.

It was then that Cloud's instinctual longing to yell at the younger man for not dropping his weapon and saving himself from drowning earlier died away. He noticed that Squall's fingers on his right hand, twisted unnaturally and painfully, were lodged into the complex weapon's hilt.

Reaching out, Cloud tenderly laid his hand over Squall's, working his fingers free of that odd blade. He astutely ignored the startled look he received as he replaced Squall's hand with his own, wrapped his left arm more firmly around the thin chest he held, and braced himself against the Garden's continued rocking.

Looking over Squall's shoulder, Cloud felt the foreign fear that rested within his heart suddenly become overpowered by his own.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice lost in the violent winds that surged around them, stirred by the massive beating wings of the monstrosity he beheld.

A floating woman without a head, her multicolored body bereft of clothing, her legs fused together into a dagger-sharp point that thrust straight down towards the ocean below, a pair of white wings dangling limply from her back. A red cloak fluttered upon the hurricane-force winds as if they were but a breeze. Where her head should have been, resting atop the huge pillar that should have been her neck and the two shapely upper arms that rose from her shoulders to plow into it, was a huge swirling multicolored ring of light flooded with odd alien symbols and blaringly bright lights, sporting upon its front an odd beak-like face and huge wings that flapped to keep it in the air.

Squinting his eyes until they were nearly shut, Cloud stared at the monster, the brilliant sheen that surrounded it nearly blinding. The air was flooded with a cacophony of racket, the winds roaring around them as those enormous wings beat, the waves below bubbling and hissing as the huge womanly being settled its dagger point into the ocean and it began to boil, people and creatures screaming as they were cooked to death, waves crashing into the Garden and rocking it violently.

The monster approached, a voice deep and dark and powerful blasting through the atmosphere so loudly Cloud's ears threatened to bleed and his head pounded in agony.

"_I will be no slave,"_ it roared. _"This planet's destruction is my dominion."_

Cloud tightened his grip on Squall's thin body even as it tensed. The sensation of fear that rested within Cloud was suddenly awash with dread and some vague sense of recollection or realization.

"_The time has come for me to deliver eternity," _the beast projected, those huge wings sweeping it nearly into the Garden itself and the body tilting. One of the lower wings swung forward, barely visible in the horribly bright light that poured from the underside of the creature's head.

Cloud kept his tight grip as another person called for his Commander, ensuring that Squall didn't break free of safety to endanger himself by attempting to reach the youth that cried for him.

Why, Cloud couldn't comprehend. All he understood was that he wanted to keep Squall safe. He was determined to protect the man he couldn't erase from his waking thoughts.

Moments later he was happy he'd prevented Squall from dashing to the other youth's aid – as a stray feather from the sweeping wing touched him, a vile puff of sound and a flash of dust and sparkling droplets of blood were all that remained of the other person.

Tightening his grip just a touch more at the risk of snapping the thin ribs of the boy he held, Cloud buried his face into Squall's thin shoulder, sheer determination keeping the squirming Commander in place as he cried the deceased boy's name and attempted to surge away from protection and safety.

As every other person in the area fled as swiftly as they could, Cloud simply maintained his position. He had a good grip on the blade Squall had set up as a stable point on the thin jetty they occupied. The blast doors behind him were shut. Cloud couldn't find any confidence within himself that both he and Squall would be able to scale the slicked sides of the massive Garden's structure to reach any other relatively safe position.

A roar of jet engines drew a sigh of relative relief from Cloud's lungs. The monster seemed to be turning its attention to whatever had flown from the Garden. Lifting his head, he swiftly assessed his current situation.

He was upon a thin jetty of metal, before closed blast doors with no apparent way to escape other than diving into the now boiling ocean filled with bodies.

Profanities hovering upon his lips, he looked at the young man he held in his arms, watching as he stared with huge and frightened eyes at the sky.

Cloud stared as dark clouds released furious lightning, a yellow bird more enormous than any he'd ever seen before spreading its wings in a thunderous clash, bolts of electricity raining from its frame to encase the feminine beast that had killed with its feathers just as a rain of brilliant white light and a stream of dragon breath burst from the heavens and bathed the target of the bird's attack in light and fiery fury. A huge train, demonic in appearance, roared along tracks of fire over the ocean to collide with the monstrous womanly creature, fire spreading over her frame during their moment of contact before the machination faded away.

The Garden began to move, Cloud struggling to maintain his grip upon the weapon that was shoved so firmly into the steel beam he knelt on as it surged violently away from the creature's deadly wings. The entire structure shuddered as it collided with another wave and began to tilt, collapsing forward towards the waves' trough before righting itself and rising along the wave's crest.

Suppressing a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him, Cloud grit his teeth and kept his focus on the battle of monsters that was taking place far too close to his position for his liking.

The beast with its wings flapped its upper appendages sharply, its feminine laughter tearing through the atmosphere without mercy. Cloud winced as it blasted over them, tearing through his brain with its power.

The yellow bird continued its attack even as the massive womanly figure approached the Garden once more, its wings sweeping through the very metal itself. Finding himself suddenly grateful that he'd not attempted to drag Squall elsewhere to safety, Cloud kept his tight grip even as lightning raced over the ocean and along the monstrous attacker's frame. The acrid odor of seared flesh and flash-cooked water overpowered his senses, tingling in his nose as electricity danced over waves and feminine beast alike.

Suddenly the lightning ceases to be, one massive wing lashing forward and catching the thunderbird off guard, blasting it completely out of existence. The creature's triumphant laughter barreled over the air even as it redoubled its efforts, both lower wings caressing the structure upon which Cloud stood.

He realized in that moment – those feathers were finally coming for them.

Gripping the odd blade he'd been using as a brace firmly, Cloud pulled at it with all of his might, prying it loose from its firm grip on the steel they knelt upon. Seeing the white filaments sweeping close at unreal speed, Cloud opted to simply leap straight over the young man he'd been defending to engage them before they could reach him.

A foot touching down, Cloud adjusted his grip on the weapon he held.

Unlike when he'd picked up the sword he'd used in his fight against Zell, he couldn't be less happy.

The weapon was horribly unbalanced, awkward and clumsy in his hands. Its crystalline blue blade was unwieldy, its grip entirely unnatural, an odd gun's trigger mounted on its right where Cloud wanted most to hold it, a chunk of metal carved into the shape of a winged lion mounted on the back of the metal base of that glowing blade adding to the terrible weightiness of the sword.

Snarling as he realized the feathers were approaching and he had no options remaining to him, Cloud steeled himself.

He launched himself at those deadly white weapons, the blue blade drifting to his right as he ducked his left shoulder forward. A quick hop to change the direction of his momentum accompanied a violent downward swing of the blade he held, its power lost with his awkward hold on the odd hilt and its angle tilted by the odd mass of weight upon the back of the sword. A curse flew from Cloud's lips as his intended strike fell short and sloppy, slicing through a few simple strands of feather and trimming them down rather than severing the portion of the appendage he'd reached.

Those severed filaments brushed against his flesh, drawing an instant well of fear and dread from Cloud's gut – moments later he was awash with relief. It seemed that once severed from the creature itself, they lost their power to utterly destroy.

The creature hovered, its wing slowly drifting back.

It was readying itself for another pass.

Cloud fell back to stand between Squall and the monster before him, sweat of terror beading upon his brow.

A part of him longed to lunge at the creature, to press the attack and destroy the wing before him utterly. However, the majority of him had decided upon another course of action. He was intent on protecting Squall. On standing between him and that which was attempting to kill him.

The creature would try for the prone Commander again. And that was when Cloud would strike.

The creature itself was the focal point, not simply the wing. And for his attack to commence, he needed it to be closer.

Tightening his grip on the odd weapon he'd relieved Squall of, Cloud glowered at the monstrosity as it slowly drifted even closer, the enormity of its nearly overwhelming. Growling, he shifted his shoulders, relieving the stress that burrowed through him, feeling the fire of adrenaline tainted with mako beginning to burn his veins. "C'mon," he hissed softly. "Get closer, will you?"

His bare feet curled their toes against the metal he stood upon as he watched his opponent approach.

Cloud's mind quickly envisioned his attack path.

The feathers would have to be avoided so long as they were attached to the monster itself. As soon as it was in range, he would charge forward and use the jetty as a launching point, getting close enough to attack its body directly. The weapon he held would be used to cut with each passing, then to provide a solid surface for him to attempt to use to change his trajectory once he was stuck without a Garden to bounce off of.

It would be hard, but hardly impossible.

The beast, overwhelmingly huge, towered over the Garden he stood upon. He felt a smirk of battle-bred fury tease his lips as he judged its distance from him.

Just a meter closer….

Tensing his muscles, he prepared to leap.

"No! Stay back or she'll kill you!"

Turning sharply on his heel, Cloud stared.

Squall had risen to his feet, his eyes wide and brilliant, left hand held out towards Cloud as if imploring him to retreat.

Cloud's eyes widened, flooding with bewilderment and amazement.

Those gunmetal eyes had changed, suddenly brilliant and gold and shining with the light of the sun as huge silver wings ripped free of the white shirt that clung to the young man's thin body, unfurling in a flash of reflective brilliance and sending metallic feathers flying through the air.

A flash of blindingly white light burst from Squall's outstretched fingers, his entire body surrounded with a soft white glow.

Cloud heard the explosion behind him. Turning his head, he stared with enormous eyes.

_Ultimas_ were roaring behind him, tearing into the monstrosity he'd been so prepared to attack.

Cloud held his breath as he watched the magical assault, his eyes hardly capable of blinking.

He knew what _Ultima_ was capable of. He knew what devastating effects it had. But he had never seen an _Ultima_ spell anywhere near what he was witnessing at that moment, the most powerful he'd ever witnessed being laughably dwarfed in power and magnitude by what he was seeing.

He also knew how long it took to cast _Ultima._ He therefore understood that there was no way such a horrendously powerful spell should be capable of being cast in such rapid succession as he was watching it being cast.

His blood nearly froze in his veins as the empty sky above was washed in darkness.

Looking up, Cloud's eyes nearly sprang from his head as his jaw sagged open.

_Meteor._

The near-destroyer of his world.

Rocks hailed from the heavens, splashing so violently into the ocean that they send towers of water rocketing over the highest tip of the Garden, pounding so viciously into the monster that its figure was shredded and punctured beyond repair, the hovering saucer that replaced its head tilting and punctured. Cloud's urge to run to Squall, to bury him under his own body and protect him from the onslaught, was halted only when he got a good look him.

Those huge silver wings reflected the carnage, bathed in orange as a series of _Flare_ spells surged over the beast's body and engulfed it completely. His hand remained outstretched, still glowing brilliantly, his body still outlined in ghostly white light. Flickers of red raced around him even as his golden eyes widened, their surfaces not cold and empty but burning with fear and terror.

Cloud broke from his position as he noticed those who stood behind Squall, those SeeDs who hadn't been able to escape the platform they were all trapped on. He noticed the fear in their eyes. He noticed their cautious grips on their weapons. He noticed their abject terror wasn't focused on the burning beast being ripped apart by meteors and consecutive _Ultima_ spells – it was focused on the man that was their Commander.

"The moon!" one of them screamed. "Look at the moon!"

Cloud turned his head, looking to the sky even as he came to Squall's side, keeping out of the blast-path of his spells.

The huge white satellite was visibly rotating, red and blue gathering upon it and giving it the semblance of a huge, frighteningly perceptive eye in the sky.

The monster under the moon laughed softly, its voice thundering as it addressed everyone present.

"_So the moon would defend the planet? So be it. I will slumber until my time comes."_

The beast began to settle, sinking slowly into the ocean, its surface violently boiling and churning as the monstrous being sank into the waves.

"_Defend my dominion from those unworthy of my rightful place, as you would defend it from me."_

As the creature began to sink completely below the waves, the entire ocean lit up, the brilliant light that the monstrosity had cast from its odd head seeming to set the very water on fire. Cloud shielded his eyes even as his heart thundered while he listened to the sinking creature's final profession.

"_I will rise again. _

"_Once Hyne's eye has fallen. _

"_Once his power has ceased to defend this world. _

"_Its life will belong to me."_

Cloud let a deep sigh rattle itself free of his lungs, shaking his head. Turning his attention to Squall, focusing everything he had on the shaken boy, he stared. The wings that had sprung into reality were fading, those silver feathers drifting into the ocean to be swallowed by its waves even as brilliant gold eyes faded into a frightened gunmetal gray.

Those sensations, the eternal emptiness and hopelessness that Cloud felt in the base of his being, were stronger than ever, now accompanied by wariness and a touch of dread.

Holding the odd weapon that belonged to Squall with both hands, fear of dropping it into the ocean overriding his desire to release it and place a comforting hand on the younger man's thin shoulder, Cloud let a calm and serene smile touch his lips.

He only allowed his gaze to harden into a glower when he looked over Squall's shoulder.

When Squall turned and witnessed the reaction of his people himself, he swallowed a shaking breath just before he sank to his knees, the apparent impact of whatever it was that had happened finally overwhelming him.

Kneeling beside him, Cloud carefully removed one hand from the odd weapon he held and set its hefty blade upon the ground next to his leg. Laying an arm across Squall's now bared back and over the shredded shirt that failed to protect him from the chill in the air, Cloud turned a cool glare to those who stood nearby, their weapons at the ready, their apparent target on his knees by Cloud's side. At that moment, he realized one crucial fact – the only way to Squall was through him.

"Don't even think about it. I'll kill you all."

_-to be continued-_

A/N: Why yes. You now likely realize that this is out of order. Cloud's half and Squall's half don't necessarily flow along the same timeline. Don't worry – the supposed disconnect will become evident and all will make sense very soon. Like within the next two chapters soon.


	9. The Setting Sun

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 9  
><span>The Setting Sun<span>

_I… feel numb._

_I know I need to write this._

_For this moment, I remember everything clearly._

_While I'm certain that this is something Eden will allow me… no, force me… to remember for the rest of my life, I need to write it. I need to make sense of it._

_Not that, really. He's right. I need to write this for another reason._

_I need to feel something tangible. Something real._

_Even though he was here, I can't feel anything. His words weren't kind. He charged me with what happened. He's holding me responsible for his loss. I can't blame him at all. I can't be angry about his words. I couldn't even fire back with what happened. All I could do was to stare at the ceiling and listen. Not even his tears moved me._

_At least he could cry. I haven't been able to._

_It should have stirred something within me. To see a great man like him at the side of my bed, on his knees, his arms crossed on strikingly white sheets and his broad shoulders heaving as he hid his eyes within the fabric that covered his body, his nose pressed into the crook of his elbow as broken sobs rattled his frame._

_I saw him age at my bedside. I saw years pile onto his face and his eyes. I saw his broken heart bring any vitality he might have possessed to an end, the emptiness of a life now bereft of all those he'd loved overpowering him. But I couldn't feel anything besides numb._

_Even when he'd laid his hand upon the animal's head and that creature obediently followed him out of my room without sparing me a glance, nothing stirred within my chest. I know I should have felt something. Especially then._

_Betrayal at the least. Debilitating sadness most likely. Rage, maybe. But nothing would come to me._

_When she came in, her hair indeed featuring pink tips and her rings in fact making soft jingling sounds when she walked, she screamed at me. Tears marred her makeup and dragged black trails down her cheeks. She cried about how far everything was along, how much was already done, how everything was for naught now. She screeched about how with my failure, everything had been brought to an end. She professed that I shouldn't be in the bed I inhabited. That I should have swapped places with the focal point of her screams._

_All I could think was 'who are you and why do I care?'_

_I know who she was. But her reaction, her screaming, her crying and sobbing and carrying on, didn't make anything within me stir._

_It's because this is a dream._

_It has to be a dream._

_No matter how real it is. No matter that the general's sharing it. No matter that she's been here and screamed about it. It has to be a dream._

_Because…_

_There's no way I could fail like this._

_There's no way this could happen._

_There's no way my head could be so silent, my heart so empty._

_Irvine's here now._

_He's put my adjustable bed back, seated himself at the head of it and is forcing me to use his chest as my incline board. It's uncomfortable._

_I can't tell him that, though._

_Something inside of me professes that I have no right to complain._

_He's been petting my hair, his own long ponytail draping over my shoulder and smelling like strawberries._

_Like her._

_He'd told me he'd come as quickly as he could when Garden got the call from the hospital I'm in – Quistis had her hands full filling the void I'd left behind when I left Garden to visit Trabia and Zell and Selphie had taken the Ragnorok to get the team I'd appointed to go to Trabia up to the northern reaches, so he'd come on his own. He'd told me that the Swordfish he'd used to reach the closest chocobo forest to Balamb would need to be picked up, his tone light as he tried to elicit a laugh out of me._

_I… couldn't laugh._

_Not even at the thought of Irvine riding to Delling at full-bore on the back of a wild chocobo._

_He'd given me my journal. He told me to write everything down. He said that it might help if I wrote everything down. And now he's holding me, petting my hair._

_I… can't even think about where to begin._

_I can't think at all. It's hard._

_I guess I'll just go with Obel Lake. Because all the encounters before that don't matter._

_I don't know why I thought to search there. It just felt… right._

_Something within me knew that the creature would be there. Because I was hunting him. He would be there._

_I know that makes no sense. But it's how I feel._

_While he'd been traveling Timber to search for people to errantly slaughter and towns to set on fire, he'd been keeping himself around Obel Lake. I don't know why anyone would do that._

_Maybe it has something to do with the energy there. I can't bring myself to even ponder it right now._

_I can't._

_But my instincts were right. We went to Obel and he was waiting there when we got out of the car._

_What he said…_

_He was looking for someone to be a vessel. Someone to carry his mother._

_Someone worthy to contain her power. Someone capable of wielding it._

_I knew he meant her. I was going to defend her._

_His eyes glowed with some alien light when he looked at me. It was light like the light that pours into Obel Lake. That sickly stream that followed the ruby dragon I had Eden hurl across space and drag back to the world._

_He'd brandished a sword at me with a smirk. I remember she fell back and I drew my gunblade. Angelo even came to my side – the mutt realized the threat, I think._

_I remember shooing the dog back to her before he sprang at me._

_He'd hit harder than anyone I've ever faced. Even Seifer. Especially Seifer._

_I… can't write much about the battle. It was nothing but a blur of chaos._

_Chaos and a ton of pain._

_He'd gotten a few lucky blows – a stab into my bicep on my lagging arm as he attempted to punch through my defenses and very nearly succeeded. A slice at my leading arm that still aches to this moment. A cut across my back when I was side-stepping a jab and turned a bit too far. A good cut on my left shin. A far-too-close scrape on my collarbone._

_But I'd gotten my hits in, too. The long sword he had was a disadvantage when faced off with a gunblade. Once I triggered on it, he could barely handle his weapon much less recover himself quickly enough to face off with me and take the offensive again._

_I remember him being fast. Incredibly fast. Inhumanly fast. And strong._

_He hit like someone who was junctioned. Junctioned big-time. Because no one hits that hard without junctions._

_He moved like someone junctioned, too. I found it hard to keep up._

_I guess I might have been lucky to get the hits I did. Because after I got him quite solidly on the thigh when he was mid-leap, he somehow took to the air._

_He was bypassing me. He was targeting her._

_Angelo had growled and barked. I leapt for her._

_She spread her wings. He recoiled right off her hasty Protect spell, the force of his swing propelling him away._

_I remember him laughing._

_He said he'd found someone worthy._

_Then why…._

_Why would…._

_Because he'd attacked._

_When I'd swung, he sacrificed his right arm to my gunblade. The warmth of his blood and the sharp cuts of bone flying into my face are something I can still feel._

_He…_

_He…_

_It went right through me._

_Rinoa, why were you standing right behind me?_

_Why didn't you flee to safety when you had the chance?_

_He pushed his sword right through me and hefted me off the ground so he could run her through, piercing her heart._

_When he withdrew his sword with a wild slicing sweep I… I couldn't move. I hit the ground feet away from her and couldn't move._

_I couldn't feel anything at all. And she…_

_She laid perfectly still._

_He was laughing. The green glow from Obel Lake was laughing too as it drenched him in its color. As it snaked towards us._

_I tried to cover her with myself. I really couldn't move. My legs refused to respond. My intestines were getting tangled around me as they spilled out of me._

_She looked at me with her eyes flooded with pain._

_Her face was so pale, her lips so blue…._

_She asked me to live._

_She asked me to keep them from getting her power._

_I… I tried to reach her… to hold her…_

_Oh God, I tried._

_When I touched her, her body was so cold._

_Her hands were so frozen as she held me._

_I… she… asked me… _

_She asked me to let her die. So they couldn't harness her sorcery._

_How could I? I… I can't._

_I tried to tell her no… I tried to tell her that everything would be fine… that someone would find us and everything would be okay._

_She smiled at me even as that soft purple glow of power seeped from her._

_I begged her to stay with me… to be with me… I cried for her to stay with me._

_I cried that I love her. That I'll always love her. That I can't live without her._

_She…_

_I…_

_Rinoa… please, God, no._

_Please let this be a dream._

_Please, God…_

_I… can't do this anymore. _

_All that's in my head are my own thoughts. Her feelings are gone, silenced and missing._

_I can't do this anymore. I can't go on._

_My heart is crying with misery._

_All I can see is tears._

* * *

><p>Cloud sighed as he stared at the entrance to the room he was in.<p>

Once again, he was a prisoner.

It had been two days now since he'd been resituated following the battle with the monstrosity he still had no name for. The Garden's drunken sway, certainly a result of the massive damage it had taken when nearly capsized by the creature they'd faced off with, had finally terminated – either the pilot they had was excellent beyond belief, or the vessel itself was docked in port and no longer moving. As the level stance of the massive mobile base was a constant throughout the day and Cloud knew of no human who could stand a diligent watch for over thirteen hours, he suspected the later.

Rather than the brig, he'd been taken to a holding area on the 'ground' level of the Garden, a place stationed at the termination of a hallway marked with a huge purple arrow. While the room he was in appeared to be open and hospitable, the blond knew such to be far from the truth – the make-shift cell featured yet another of those horribly powerful force fields. His sensitive hearing could pick up the delicate hum of electrical relays hard at work to produce it.

Still, his situation wasn't such that it derived exacerbation or frustration from him. After all, this particular span of imprisonment featured much more palatable food, clothing and a cot to sleep on. He had a smidgeon more room to move around in as well without coming close to the force field he now had a very healthy respect for, which suited him fine.

Rather than MREs, he was now dining on bland though not entirely tasteless meals of mashed starch products they called russet potatoes, processed meats covered in gravy that suffered from not having nearly enough salt to make it flavorful and a weird jiggling substance dubbed 'Jell-O.' It was food designed to not upset a delicate digestive track, to go down easily and be easily digested rather than excite the palate and be found enjoyable. Still, to Cloud, it was delicious and wholesome compared to his faire over the last two weeks plus change onboard the mobile Garden he was still imprisoned on.

It had been barely an hour after he'd been brought to his new cell that he'd been provided with clothing. The source of that clothing had shocked Cloud to the depths of his core, though.

The blond martial artist he'd faced with, the boy he'd heard called 'Zell' by Irvine, had come in to check on him and Squall. He'd frowned when he'd realized Cloud's state of undress, his recyclable paper boxer shorts having suffered terribly from their induction into the ocean and barely managing to preserve his questionable dignity. Zell had swiftly left, his lips carrying an impish smirk and a promise to be back shortly – certainly enough, the martial artist jogged back into the area and petitioned one of the guards stationed outside of Cloud's newest enclosure to lower the force field so he could hand over clothing.

It fit him well enough, the blue jeans just a touch short in the leg and a little snug around the waist though not uncomfortably so, the white short-sleeved shirt larger than he'd like and billowing around him, the white socks a tad small but warm. A redundant set of the same had been handed over along with a promise that laundry would be done daily so he could always have a clean ensemble of clothing available. He'd been given underwear that was still packaged, certainly something that was standard issue to new recruits and pulled out of a supply bin – while the tight fit of briefs was something that normally would induce cringing, Cloud was happy to have something fabric covering his nether regions under his newly acquired pants.

After he'd changed, Zell had requested that a cot be shoved into the room to accommodate the second individual within the room's confines as the bed was already quite taken. Cloud had barely had a moment to mutter thanks for both the consideration and the clothing that certainly had come from the martial artist's own wardrobe before the younger blond ran off, telling Cloud that he'd be back later to check on them and talk but at that moment he had important stuff to get done and the cafeteria was opening in five minutes.

Cloud wasn't bothered by the sudden departure, nor was he disturbed by the suddenness with which the two young guards in their crisp uniforms who took station outside of his room reestablished the force field that kept him imprisoned and shouldered their weapons, one a massive rifle and the other an impressively hefty pole arm.

He couldn't bring himself to worry much about his current state that, despite the decided improvements over his previous stint upon the massive mobile military instillation, was still that of an imprisoned man held due to circumstances he couldn't comprehend much less take ownership of.

He had much more important things than his incarceration to worry about.

The hum of emptiness, of hopelessness, was still laced with dread and self-depreciative loathing as it burrowed in the back of Cloud's skull, seeking refuge far away from his conscious thoughts and making every effort it seemed to remain undetected. And despite his longing to search for an explanation concerning the odd sensations that hovered within his brain, the one he suspected could answer his questions wasn't responsive.

After all, those tingling feelings within his mind were all he could assign responsibility for his reason actions to. Without those alien thoughts burrowing through him, he doubted he'd have done what he'd done.

He had rescued Squall.

A boy he hardly knew, an individual who in fact was the sole responsible faucet that continued his earlier imprisonment. He'd risked his life for the brunet soldier with his odd weapon rather than any of the young cadets who were raining into the ocean, their screams of panic and terror and pain forever haunting and resounding in newly formed memories. A youth who was soft spoken, bland, carried an air of caustic reproachful bitterness around him and commanded the respect of al around him as any officer would.

In retrospect, Cloud realized that Squall should have been the last person he would be motivated to rescue in the fiasco he'd just managed to survive. Still, the surly Commander had stolen his focus and elicited actions both illogical and reckless.

Cloud sighed quietly as his eyes drifted about the room.

He still couldn't fathom why he'd done what he'd done, but for the simple fact that the odd cry for aid in his mind had driven him. He'd willingly given in to the desire that burned in his skull to rescue the sinking Commander, saving him from certain death.

He wasn't resentful, but simply desiring an explanation. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

He had saved Squall Leonhart, Commander of the military institution that held him captive.

And the man who he most desired to speak to, the storm-eyed youth whose image remained a fixation in his dreams and his waking imaginings, was silent at his side.

Granted, the younger man wasn't in much shape to speak with Cloud and assist him in piecing together the oddities that plagued his mind. He was sleeping soundly, his eyes closed and utter exhaustion lacing his worn features.

Squall was currently on the bed in the room they both were inhabiting, incarcerated just as he was by an enormously powerful force field and a supposed 'anti-magic field' if the whisperings of the nurses who breezed by the entryway to their domain were to be taken seriously. The young man had been rescued from death only to be locked away before he could potentially retaliate, his shaken and exhausted state following the battle with the diabolical creature that killed with its barest touch leaving him drained and incapable of escaping those who would strike against him.

Closing his eyes, Cloud drew a deep breath.

The scent disturbed him mildly, the faint sterile stench of antiseptics and medicines hovering eternally in the air of the medical ward. It reminded him vaguely of the laboratory he could only partially recall in the broken depths of his memory, when the world had first been tainted with green and he'd awakened to Jenova's alien screech in his ears and her fire in his blood.

A quick shake of his head cleared him instantly of dire recollections he in no way wished to revisit.

Rather than allowing himself to drift into a shattered past liberally laced with pain and misery, he instead reached for Squall, lifting a thin, paper-skinned hand into his own and letting the surreal chill of those fingers seep into his skin.

He let a frown turn his lips as he folded his other hand over the skinny appendage he held, chill-raised bumps seeping up his arms as he held what felt like icicled frost between his palms.

The cold sensation of Squall's skin unnerved him, to be certain. But as long as the cold persisted, the monitoring equipment with its snaking wires connecting it to the suction cups clued to the youth's body showed strong vitals and healthy activities. Even as the barest touch of the man's fingers would elicit shivers from anyone who dared to make contact with him, whatever power was drawing his heat away was rapidly healing his wounds. The massive slash that scarred his abdomen was laced completely shut, leaving naught but a vibrant line. His newest bruises from the beating he'd taken during his activities in what once was a training center onboard the Garden and the resultant release of the feminine monstrosity Cloud had watched sink into the sea were already faded to a faint yellow, the vivid purple of Cloud's own bruises barely starting to show a handful of hours after their incarceration.

While the cold of that power which seemed to be responsible for Squall's accelerated healing was beneficial to the young man's body, Cloud couldn't bring himself to find much comfort in it.

While he was cold, he was unconscious, his gray eyes hidden under heavy eyelids and his breathing slow and deep.

The Commander had been warm – heated by adrenaline, even – when Cloud had rested his bare arm across the young brunet's similarly bare back. While not searing, the pale skin had at least held enough heat to draw comfort from, a thinly veiled acceptation that the skinny body indeed held life.

For the last two days he'd been still, frigid and asleep, leaving Cloud without recourse for answers and stewing with worry alone in their room.

The whispers he'd caught from the guards during those first few turnovers of duty hadn't been of any comfort. Five pairs of guards had now stood watch outside of his door, displaying five different reactions.

The first set, the pair of youths in their wrinkled uniforms who had been caught in the chaos of the battle that had rattled their garden and assigned to escort Cloud and Squall to the medical ward by a young woman with brown hair cropped at her shoulders and smartly dressed in a uniform that resembled their save sporting color on the shoulder guards, were terrified beyond belief. They'd seen the silver wings. They'd witnessed the explosive power. They'd hidden their horror behind their weapons, trying to stand brave and strong to defend themselves and their comrades against a perceived threat despite their quaking shivering. The young men hadn't said much, their voices stolen by fear as they stood a crisp guard outside of the room Cloud had been shuffled in to, their stances only relaxing once a woman with a rather stocky build that everyone simply referred to as "Dr. K" had helped Cloud lift his burden onto the bed, established her monitoring equipment and stepped free of the room, allowing the murderous electric force field to finally be established.

A girl and boy had relieved them, their faces drained as they'd peered into the room. They'd whispered to one another during their stint at guard duty, Cloud's perceptive hearing easily able to pick up on their secretive murmurings. Those two couldn't believe that their Commander was something called a Sorcerer. The girl expressed sorrow and regret. The boy professed that being a Sorcerer simply meant their Commander was even more awesome than he had been before. When Cloud had inquired as to what a Sorcerer was, he'd been met by silence, the pair staring at him before turning their backs to him and standing a silent, militant watch.

The third pair that came along received Cloud's questions and eagerly answered them, much to Cloud's entertainment. He was certain they were not supposed to be speaking to prisoners – when he'd asked them if they were breeching any rules or regulations concerning such, one of the two men had laughed and asked who was going to reprimand them as their Commander was currently laid up.

He'd learned that Sorcerers were the scourge of the planet, responsible throughout time for ravaging civilizations and tearing down nations. Supposed recipients of a dark deity's power, they were humans who could do magic far above and beyond what any person could do without the aid of a Guardian Force – in some cases recorded through history, they could even exceed the paramagic wielded by the Guardian Forces themselves.

Harbingers of doom and chaos, Sorcerers had been hunted through history, many who assume their powers staying hidden from the prying eyes of society for fear of persecution. Those who had made themselves known had done so in spectacular fashion, wrenching entire domains under their control and ruling with iron fists until suppressed by stupendous, superhuman effort.

Cloud could hardly believe the pairs' boasts that SeeD had put down a Sorceress from the future just before she'd managed to compress all time to one singularity and thus end existence itself. However, they assured him that it was true, that the boy on the bed had been the SeeD to lead the team that time traveled to meet the dreaded Sorceress Ultimecia, and that the terror of Sorcery was indeed so vast and inhuman as to encompass control of time itself.

While Cloud couldn't fully understand the impact of what they were professing nor the incredible threat Sorcery seemed to present to the very world itself, he could recognize that perhaps these people had a reason to be fearful. What magical prowess Squall had displayed was, in fact, so far beyond anything he'd ever witnessed in his life that it rattled even him to the core.

The forth pair had picked up where the third had left off, their more colored uniforms he'd come to learn designating them as graduated SeeD personnel. They were field mercenaries who had volunteered to take some of the guard load off of the cadets so they could effectively study.

Both young women, armed with simple swords whose worn hilts spoke of multitudes of battles despite their wielders' youthful appearances, gave off a stern and confident aura. However, they quickly dispersed with the hardened appearance and cordially entertained Cloud's continued request for information.

From them, he'd learned that SeeD had one defined purpose – to destroy Sorceresses who would threaten the world.

The Garden had been birthed to grow the SeeDs of hope that would lead the world to an era of peace, free from the fear that Sorcery would bring to it, free of the strife that always followed on a prominent Sorceress' heels.

It was then that Cloud understood why he and Squall were sharing their incarceration – the young Commander had apparently revealed that he was in fact the enemy.

However, the Garden was in turmoil, Cloud learned.

There were many whispered desires for the Sorcerer to be terminated while he was weak. Many of the cadets upon the Garden were terrified, the tales of history woven into their minds and hearts and suddenly bursting into reality with frightening power. Even some of the seasoned SeeDs who had managed to blunder their way through a recent 'Sorceress War' Cloud had no knowledge of were questioning if that would indeed be the best course of action.

Many others, however, were more loyal to the Commander than to the ideals of the Garden itself.

The young ladies who guarded their cell reassured Cloud that they were in fact a part of the second faction of Garden. That if push came to shove and Garden were to attempt to terminate the newest Sorcerer to show prominence, they would abandon the establishment to support him and aid in his escape.

When Cloud had whispered to them to keep their voices down else they risked military discipline or possible expulsion, they'd laughed outright, stating that the security cameras in the medical ward were disabled, the nurses on duty had been hand selected to ensure their loyalty to the Commander wouldn't waver and they'd provide proper medical care, and that the guards who were rotating through the ward all felt the same as they. The shorter of the two women had granted Cloud a casual wink, professing that the only reason a force field and anti-magic field had been established at all was owing to their lacking confidence pertaining to Squall's mood when he eventually awakened – once he told them he wouldn't kill any of them, it would instantly be dropped.

The fifth batch that came in, stern and quiet with their rifle and pole arm, hadn't bothered speaking to Cloud. However, he couldn't bring himself to feel any anxiety about them – the assurance granted to him by the pair who had stationed themselves outside of the room he and Squall were sharing earlier had delivered a considerable amount of comfort to his heart.

Suddenly the two outside of Cloud's cell instantly readied their weapons, one of them sternly barking an order to stop while the other roared out 'What are you doing here?'

Nervous energy jumping into his throat, Cloud shimmied as close to the force field as he dared, staring at the commotion outside.

The sensations in the base of his brain didn't fluctuate at all as if detached in every way from the happenings of the waking world. Squall himself didn't stir upon his bed, the drug-induced sleep he resided in while recovering from his ordeal deep enough to allow him to ignore the disturbances ringing through the medical ward.

The lack of response from those excess emotions within Cloud's mind didn't change his determination, though. Somewhere within him rose the desire to defend himself and defend the other man in the room. Regardless of not having an available weapon, he was determined to at least get between the defenseless man on the bed and the apparent threat that had motivated those guards dedicated to his well-being to ready their arms.

"Woah, woah! Take it easy, guys," a bright and energetic voice called. "Stand down."

The youth with his pole arm snarled viciously, his teeth grit with determination and hate. "Mr. Dincht, you can't seriously be-"

"He's here by my invitation," the tattooed blond quickly interrupted. "So yeah, I'm seriously suggesting you stand down."

"By your invite?" the rifleman gasped, even as Cloud tried vainly to see past his guards and catch a glimpse of what was occurring.

"Yup. So if you two don't mind, will you come with me for a few? We need to keep this door secure. Don't want any unwanted visitors."

"You ask me, we've already got one," the rifleman muttered even as Zell flashed him a queasy grin.

Cloud cleared his throat lightly. He frowned as his two guards ignored him.

"C'mon," Zell murmured moments later. "Just trust me on this one! Cloud… he needs to talk to this guy."

Straightening his stance, the young man with his pole arm lifted one hand from his weapon and rubbed his temple with a scowl coloring his face. "Wait, wait. So you mean to say that you brought this guy here to talk with our prisoner? For what reason?"

"Because he needs to talk to this guy!" Zell protested.

"Shit, Chickenwuss, I wouldn't listen to your lame ass if I was in their shoes. Why don't you just come out and tell us all what your empty head dreamed up?" a new voice inserted into the verbal fray.

Cloud felt his teeth grit, instinctual anger coloring his senses.

That voice, so haughty and arrogant, deep and powerful and exuding confidence, grated on his every last nerve.

Given the bristling of every other person in the room and the snarling of the martial artist that was still blocked from Cloud's view accompanied by a sharp growl commanding that the owner of that deep and burly voice not call him 'Chickenwuss,' Cloud assumed the man behind that statement wasn't one who garnered many fans onboard the Garden. Even with that one statement, Cloud decided, he certainly didn't have a fan in Cloud Strife.

Cloud found it almost disappointing that the tingle of foreign emotions that rested within him didn't respond at all to the new stimulus in the room – he was keenly interested in what the comatose brunet would feel about the interloper.

"So out with it," the intruder growled.

"Fine. I just have a nagging suspicion that I know what's going on with Squall and Cloud."

"Someone named their kid Cloud? Classy."

"Seifer-" Zell growled viciously.

"Well, lemme see him. I can't wait to rub all this shit in his face," the stranger Cloud had yet to see interrupted with a rude snort. "Stand aside, nublets."

"Sir…" the rifleman quietly protested.

"Let's get to the door," Zell ordered.

Cloud let his eyes narrowed as both of his guards bristled, gripping their weapons and moving to meet with the shorter martial artist.

With them no longer blocking his view and joining with Zell to guard the door, Cloud could finally see who had set his nerves on edge.

The man was large, easily as tall as Irvine but considerably more broad in the shoulders. A white trench coat, lightly discolored by age and dust, hung over his strong and imposing frame, red crosses on each sleeve standing in stark contrast to its countenance. Black pants, boots and a like-colored vest covered the rest of him. Blond hair, shortly cropped and slicked back along his skull, topped a strong-chinned face with cold, piercing blue eyes parted by a vicious dark scar and held aloft by a cruel smirk.

Cloud's guts twisted. He immediately didn't like this individual.

He reminded him strongly of Reno. Perhaps not in mania or in murderous intent, but the cockiness, the confidence, the arrogance, the playfully projected dominance and the openly-displayed show of superiority over all around him were perfectly replicated.

When the man glanced over at the prone figure lying on the cold white hospital bed with machinery snaking from its sickly, pale flesh, he snorted. "Dumb fuck. You fail that badly, and don't even have the common courtesy to be conscious so I can ridicule you properly?"

Cloud immediately filed the nameless man into his list of 'most despicable people he's ever known,' right below Reno and somewhere above Rufus.

"And you. What the hell are you doing in there with him?"

Realizing he was being spoken to, Cloud scowled. "What business is it of yours?"

"Apparently every bit my business, according to Chickenwuss over there."

Ignoring the protesting shout of 'HEY!' from the door, Cloud let his scowl deepen. "And you are?"

Huffing in disbelief, the taller blond drew his shoulders back and stared at Cloud down the length of his nose, his eyes narrowing to crinkle the scar that slashed between them. "What rock have you been buried under for the last year?"

"One that's not knowledgeable concerning nobodies like you."

Cloud refused to allow his almost childish glee at garnering a hearty bristle and scowl from the stranger to show on his face.

"Hmph," the interloper snorted. "You wanna play this game? Fine. I have nothing to say to you."

Zell glowered into the room. While Cloud felt his eyes unconsciously widen, the memory of his recent beat-down fresh and unmarred, the stranger on the other side of the enormously powerful force field grunted before he crossed his arms.

"Fine. Seifer. But that's all you're gonna get," the huge blond menace grumbled.

Nodding once, Cloud sighed. "Cloud. Now explain what you meant with your statement."

"I don't have to explain shit to-"

A harshly cleared throat and a gesture of a thumb across a throat from the blond martial artist drew a grimace from Seifer's lips. After a short mutter about somebody having his panties in a twist and how he'd smash the little Chickenwuss into putty if only he had something called a Hyperion at his side accompanied by a lamentation about being an escorted visitor and how the rules requiring him to leave his weapon at the gate were retarded, the man grumbled. "He failed."

"And you mean…?" Cloud questioned, arching a brow.

"How damned dense are you concerning world events?" Seifer snorted, disbelief coloring his voice. "Don't you know who he is? What he was?"

"No, not really."

Holding his head, Seifer groaned. "Shit. So not only does Squall botch everything, he picks up this lame-ass loser."

Rolling his eyes, Cloud sat down on the floor before the force field. "So if you're so all-knowing, why don't you explain things to me?"

"Don't know if I can simplify it enough," Seifer snorted before he sat down across from Cloud, his legs crossed before him and his elbows resting on his knees. Pressing his chin into his folded hands, he grunted. "Know anything about Sorceresses?"

"Some," Cloud honestly replied, his posture instantly and unintentionally mimicking that of the broader blond opposing him. "I know what they've done throughout history. I know what they seem to be capable of. But I don't see what that has to do with Squall's apparent failure."

"Know anything about Knights?" Seifer blandly questioned, his face quizzically blank.

Cloud blinked rapidly. "Knights…?"

"So 'no.' Got'cha."

Rubbing his temple, Cloud huffed, his irritation with his visitor rising to phenomenal levels. "So…."

"Knights are supposed to defend their Sorceresses. Make sure they stay safe."

"Seems silly, given how much power these Sorceresses are supposed to have," Cloud quietly observed.

Clearing his throat, his arrogance and cynicism seeming to melt away, Seifer frowned. "Seems that way. But that power comes with a price."

"Price?"

"Yeah," he continued, his eyes drifting shut and the scar between them collapsing in as his brow harshly furrowed. "The humanity of the Sorceress. Think about it – she's channeling a God. A being of power far beyond anything we can understand. The more she touches that power, the less human she becomes. And the less human she becomes, the more dangerous she is."

Cloud's eyes widened a touch. "So… the Knight is there to make sure the Sorceress doesn't use any magic?"

"More than that. He's not just a shield – he's her foundation. He keeps her stable, keeps her human."

Leaning back, using a hand to brace himself upright, Cloud let his lips turn with a small frown. "What do you mean, 'keeps her stable?' I don't really…."

Seifer snorted, his eyes opening a touch to glower at Cloud. "I mean that he's supposed to keep her rooted in Time. Thing is, Sorceresses can see through Time. Past, Present, Future. Everything. They can look all they want. But they can't project themselves there – that was Elone's power. But I think explaining how Time Compression was supposed to work and how Ultimecia was going to accomplish it isn't exactly the conversation for here and now."

Sighing, Cloud shrugged.

Rolling his eyes once, Seifer grumbled. "Fucking retard. Anyway. Can you imagine being able to see throughout time? How is the human mind supposed to comprehend where it belongs? When it belongs? How's the human mind supposed to realize that the Past is past, the Future isn't decided and the Present is where it belongs? How's she supposed to know that the Past can't be altered? That the Future isn't set in stone? That violent action's not always required to mold the future that she sees?"

Cloud's eyes widened, understanding beginning to wash over him. "Because a Sorceress can see through time, they garner the desire to change it… because they know what's going to happen…?"

"Because they've seen the past and they can look into the future. Looking into the past, they can see all the strife that humans have put Sorceresses through. They can see the burnings, the witch-hunts, the suppression, the murders. They can see the dark future that awaits their kind, days where they're still repressed and expelled from society like monsters. And that's typically what drives them mad."

Quirking a brow, Cloud frowned. "How do you know all of this?"

"Because my Sorceress' connection with me let me know her fears."

Cloud's eyes sprang open, his jaw unhinging and hanging slack. "You…?"

"I was the Sorceress' Knight. Edea, when she was controlled by Ultimecia herself."

Speechless, Cloud lifted a hand and gestured, wishing for Seifer to continue.

With a snort, the broad blond shook his head. "A Knight… is supposed to keep his Sorceress human. He's supposed to keep her rooted in the present. And above all, he's supposed to keep her safe. And that one right there's where Puberty-Boy over there failed miserably."

"What?" Cloud lamely asked, stirring slightly to cast his glance over to Squall.

"He didn't keep her safe. Picked up the newspaper and saw the obituary her father ran."

Cloud stared as Seifer's eyes narrowed, hate burning in their depths.

"Idiot. Your first order of business when you're a Knight is to give everything for your Sorceress. What happened to you is fitting," Seifer snarled towards the bed in the chamber Cloud occupied.

Cloud was about to ask what he meant when Seifer simply continued on a miniature tirade. "How's it feel, Squall? Living on with her powers? Zell told me what happened! That you've picked them up! That's you're the next one! Not like I wouldn't have figured it out – huge as hell light-show with sorcery and that stupidly over-the-top Guardian Force of yours getting pummeled over the ocean and Garden comes rolling in, beat to shit and listing just a few hours later? No big mystery there. Hope you enjoy being scorned by humanity. And hope you love living on with her death rubbing itself in your face everyday. Welcome to not being able to die unless someone sucks away your powers, like you did to her."

Instantly on his feet, Cloud snarled as he barely restrained himself from lunging at the force field that separated him. "Shut. Up," he quietly growled, his eyes burning, green tainting his vision and fire beginning to heat his blood.

Seifer's face lit with a twisted sneer. "So you answered the call, huh?"

"What call?" Cloud bit, his patience wearing thin, his teeth grit.

"'What call,' he asks," Seifer chuckled cruelly.

"Answer me!" Cloud hissed.

"To be a Knight, you simpleton."

Cloud's anger instantly simmered, his gaze dazed and confused.

Shrugging, Seifer smirked. "I always dreamed of being a Knight in shining armor for someone. About being a hero. And… at the time… I guess I wanted the world to see me as someone great. As… a grown-up who could do anything. She presented me with that chance. When her Sorcery touched me, I responded to it readily – I recognized that my opportunity to realize my dream had come, and I willingly became her Knight."

"So… you volunteered?"

"Every Knight volunteers," Seifer said with a shrug. "Doesn't matter if you're conscious of that fact or not, you were willing to do it, and now you're saddled with it until you die. Or until your Sorcerer releases you. So I ask again. You answered the call?"

"I… don't know."

"You feel him in your heart? In your mind?"

Cloud's eyes, widen and disbelieving, stared at his own feet as he stood before the force field.

The alien emotions within him, still so hopeless and self-depreciating, remained still and buried in his heart.

Those sensations, not overbearing or oppressive as Jenova's were and easily segregated from the destructive beast's acid hate, that hid so shyly within his mind and rested without any desire to drive Cloud's actions against his own will.

Squall's touch.

Squall's call.

He'd… responded to Squall's cry for aid.

Before that moment, he'd responded to Squall's helplessness when it came to dealing with the interloper who he'd battled in Timber.

When he'd first offered his aid without thought to his own imprisonment, when he'd first volunteered his services without bartering for freedom or reconstitution for his suffering, when he'd first felt the stir of those alien emotions within him and found them comfortably enjoyable rather than sinister and loathsome.

"I… do," Cloud finally confessed.

Seifer snorted. "Why the hell would'ja answer that brat's call?" he grumbled.

"Because he needed my help," Cloud softly muttered, his vocalization more for his own ears than any others. "Because… I've always failed those I've tried to defend. Tifa. Aerith. Everyone."

"And you thought you'd be able to succeed this time?"

"No," Cloud bit, startled back to cognizant awareness of who was listening. "Because he needs me. More than anyone else, he actually needs me."

Exhaling slowly, Seifer shook his head and rose to his feet. "Well, 'least now you know what you've gotta do. Maybe you'll do a better job than the last Sorceress' Knight did."

Gritting his teeth, Cloud glowered at the huge man as he towered over him, his fists clenched at his sides.

Turning on his heel, Seifer strode with every ounce of confidence he oozed towards the door. "Tell me when that putz regains consciousness. Puberty-Boy and I gotta have a few words."

"Yeah, sure," Zell snorted from the door, even as he told the two guards to escort Seifer to the main gate and make sure he didn't come back in.

Once the three had departed, the tattooed martial artist walked in, the bounce he normally sported gone from his step and his fists shoved in the pockets of his oversized jean shorts. "So… I guess my suspicions were right."

"He's… a Sorcerer. I can accept that, given what I saw when we faced off with that monster," Cloud softly surmised. "But I'm his Knight…? Why would he choose me? Why would he even call to me?"

"I don't know, to be honest," Zell muttered with a shrug. "But… actually, I'm kind of glad he did."

"You are?" Cloud huffed, glancing over to Zell with disbelief in his eyes.

"Yeah. Thanks to you, my friend's still alive," the martial artist replied, honesty coloring his voice and his face. "And if you're really his Knight… I'm hoping you'll keep him that way."

His words stolen by the youth's sincerity, Cloud could only offer a shy nod as the setting sun's brilliant orange rays colored the Medical Ward.

_-to be continued-_

A/N: Sorry the first part wasn't more action packed. Squall just wasn't up for it. :P (and that, ladies and gents, is why there's a tragedy rating on this fic.)


	10. Embrace in Gray

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 10  
><span>Embrace in Gray<span>

_Garden. I wish I could say I'm happy to be back._

_After only a couple days in the ICU in Delling, Irvine managed to sweet-talk my caretakers into relinquishing me to Garden control. How that man works his magic is beyond me._

_I… still feel numb._

_But right now, the numbness is good._

_Feeling empty, feeling alone, feeling the abyss within my heart and the shadows in my mind where she once shone with so much light, feeling the horrible pain of her absence is something I can't withstand right now._

_Perhaps in the future I'll be able to tolerate it. But right now, I need that numbness._

_I need to not lose myself to my grief._

_Because right now, I need to find him._

_During that short span of time that I was locked away and incapable of searching for the beast that struck Rinoa down, Irvine had been relaying news to me._

_He'd found my gunblade at the site of the battle. He'd also found huge pools of blood, presumably from us. He'd found the shards of bone and lumps of flesh and skin left by my opponent's right arm. He'd found the body of the village fisherman the beast I'd engaged in battle with had slain near where the tire tracks left by our abandoned vehicle were. He'd found our vehicle completely intact and apparently untouched, its tank still nearly half full and the GPS still in the glovebox where I'd left it._

_He didn't find her body._

_He didn't find any trace of my target, either._

_I need to stay cold, to stay focused._

_Because if I lose myself, I will never find him._

_I have to find the monster who killed her. I have to find out what he's done with her._

_I need to have her back. If only to lay her to rest, to give her father closure, to give myself a final outlet for the grief that's threatening to rip me asunder, I need to have her back._

_I need to murder the beast that's taken her from me. He's taken my happiness. Our happiness. Our future. My life, as much as he's taken hers._

_So I will stay numb. Cold. Logical. Until I have him._

_Then I will allow the rage that boils in me to burst free._

_And once he is dead, perhaps then I can grieve._

_My thoughts are so scattered right now. I should be rejoicing that I'm finally back home, but I can't. I want to be back in Timber, back facing that monster who's hiding from me._

_It's been nearly two weeks since we faced off with one another. I'm still less than optimal, hardly in any shape to face him. The fact that I've regained a semblance of mobility at all is apparently a medicinal miracle, according to Doctor K._

_What the hell's so miraculous about it? I'm in more pain than I've ever known before – my dizzy spells whenever I sit upright put those moments of vertigo I suffered after Seifer slashed my face open with Hyperion to utter and complete shame. I can barely stand upright without being overtaken by spots of black and white filling my vision and agony racing along my spine._

_Sure, my spine was apparently severed when I was disemboweled. But hey, Guardian Forces are known for being able to keep pieces of humans together and viable if it's their will, and I have the most powerful of Guardian Forces this world has ever seen nesting in my head. Nothing miraculous at all about my nerves being knitted back together._

_Yes it's odd that this time the good Doctor's been hovering after me with a thermometer, growling that there's no way I should have any viable vitals and holding her head as confusion rakes her brain. Wish I could provide her with answers (if only to get her off my back), but how am I supposed to know why Eden's mending me as rapidly as she is, sapping every ounce of energy I have to the point that my body temperature's plummeted far below what's normal for anything that's living?_

_Every time I attempt to ask Eden anything, she hisses and recoils into the back of my head. I'm torn over that reaction – while it's a blessing that she's not cackling and screaming and ripping my mind to shreds with songs of despair and destruction, she's also being less cooperative than normal. I fear that if I ever need to rely on her, the response time might be slow enough to get me killed._

_Or she'll just let me get maimed and then come to my rescue. If she really wanted me dead, she would just let me fade. She'd let me join with Rinoa in death._

_Eleven days back on Garden. Three in Delling. Two weeks since she died._

_It seems so impossible, even now._

_Especially considering my dreams – Rinoa's present in them, right? The dream where she arrives, and that beast that dared to strike her down is battling the blond swordsman in the muddied pit? It has to be her – no other has her looks, her presence, her eyes…._

_Her wings._

_Those beautiful, white, pure wings. They spread in my dreams. I see them every night._

_So impossible._

_Her body missing, her presence in my dreams… it lends towards her still being alive. Oh, how I wish it were truly possible!_

_But if she were alive… I am her Knight. I would feel her. Even if the one-sided bond only allows her to pry through my brain and not vice versa, I would feel her. That emptiness in my heart would have some substance to it, the darkness in my mind have an inkling of light. Of hope. Of love._

_So… where is she? Why does she appear in my dreams? Those questions are ones I can't begin to answer._

_Best to focus on one dilemma at a time. The one who killed her. The one who defeated me in a moment of weakness, when Rinoa's ability to flee was most prominent on my mind and distracted me from fully expending my efforts towards self-preservation and defeating my foe._

_Since Quistis told me that I was in no shape to get back into my office and shooed me back to Medical the day I returned, I've been stuck reminiscing on that monster._

_He was in fact the one I saw in my dreams. The one in the security footage I'd reviewed._

_Taller than even Irvine. Well muscled, but not overly stocky in build. Wearing a black trench coat and black pants, silver shoulder guards held in place by leather straps and silver buckles. Carrying a sword whose blade was as long as he was tall. Staring at us with green cat eyes from between twin falls of long white hair that shone silver in the moon's light, confidence radiating from a thin face with skinny lips twisted into a sneer that glistened on alabaster skin. Hair that reached past the small of his back, fluttering thickly on the breeze that stirred the night around Obel Lake._

_He wasn't a figure I'd be forgetting. Not now. Not in the near future. Likely not for the remainder of my life._

_My friends have been trying to distract me from my morose recollections. Irvine has been by my side so consistently I'm beginning to wonder if Selphie has any radical ideas about us. Every evening he comes to see me, encouraging me to write my thoughts – he's going to be smug and giddy that I've finally listened to him and given in. He keeps thinking this will help get me out of my supposed funk._

_All it's doing for me is aiding me in organizing my thoughts. Everything's been scattered, tossed about in the sea of chaos my brain has become. Perhaps tomorrow I'll be able to read my thoughts jotted down here and make sense of what I should be doing and where I can go from here._

_Selphie has been trying to be a ray of sunshine, but unfortunately has been falling short. Rinoa's absence is affecting her pretty heavily – I know she was looking forward to helping decorate for yet another party and was lobbing suggestions to Rinoa for our reception, and is likely disheartened that said event will never occur. Still, her smiles and bright professions that we'd get the guy who did this have helped the hurt retreat. She helps the numb I need to feel overtake the pain. And… it's good to know I'll have her at my side when I find the monster I intend to hunt to the ends of the world._

_I haven't really seen much of Quistis. According to Irvine, she is a bit overwhelmed with all that's occurred and Cid is unabashedly tossing responsibility to those underneath him as to allow himself to scurry away at a moment's notice. While I would simply shrug and accept his typical reaction, she's been wrapping herself in worry and self-depreciative criticism of the job she's been doing and her lacking expertise in governing the very lives of the SeeD personnel of Balamb Garden._

_Personally, I think she'd do just fine if she just got past the mindset of sending people to die and instead adopted the thought of sending people who are going to live. That one simple angle would likely pave the path to her success in filling the Commander position._

_And she asked for it, shooing me away when I was more than ready to take my seat back._

_I get that she's trying to keep me away from the stress and the idiocy that awaits me in that office and attempting to encourage my healing and recovery, but still, having nothing to do is driving me a touch stir-crazy._

_Zell actually brought me a card signed by everyone from our little 'Orphanage Gang' and flowers when I first arrived back on Garden._

_I find it a bit odd to receive that kind of stuff, but… it's actually kind of nice._

_Thank Hyne he's never going to read this journal. He'd get wishy-washy and hug me or something._

_But after that, he's been in Medical. The second day I was there, he was brought into the ward. Doctor K. didn't bother coming into my room for her hourly checks on my healing; he must've been in pretty terrible shape._

_The bruises he's sporting as he meanders around the Medical Ward looking for anyone who'll sign a release for him look horrendously painful, but he's assured me he's fine and dandy and more than ready for action when we find the man who's responsible for my current condition._

_Ten days ago, Selphie told me that an intruder managed to make it onboard, and that stranger was in fact responsible for Zell's newly acquired resemblance to a pummeled chunk of meat. Must've been right after Irvine and I got back from Delling – I'd been exhausted and simply passed out the moment I was laid down on the surprisingly comfortable bed Doctor K. had waiting for me in Medical._

_Irvine's occupied himself with questioning the stranger, him playing the 'good cop' to oppose Selphie's 'bad.' What he'd reported to me needed to be backed up – the stranger was weaving them tales about places no one's ever heard of._

_The stranger also carried many of the same markers that were found in the blood that had graced my gunblade._

_Thank goodness Irvine had the foresight to not clean my weapon – guess he figured that having the good people of our Medical department draw a full panel from the DNA my enemy left behind would come in handy when it came time to identify him. Smart man._

_The nurses had breathed to me that the blood on my gunblade was quite unique, substances whirling within it completely alien and chromosome pairings unlike what they'd ever seen. I'd told them to give the folks over in Esthar something to puzzle over. They've yet to get back to us with any answers as to what the other foreign material in those blood samples could possibly be._

_But seems that our stranger in the brig carries the same markers, the same foreign material as the blood that had marked my blade. Irvine and Selphie were nearly chomping at the bit, hoping for my permission to override Quistis' firmly stated negative response in regards to their desire to torture our captive for more information regarding why he'd be burning villages and slaughtering people. They were convinced he was the guy I'd faced off with, infiltrating Garden to finish me off during my weakest hours._

_While foreign substances matching identically in eerily similar blood samples seemed pretty concrete in identifying the prisoner as the guy who attacked us at Obel Lake, I decided that I needed to see him for myself. After all, if it was the same guy, seeing him and being able to direct his fate myself might have alleviated my stress and my constant nightmares._

_So today I went down to talk to him._

_And this is probably why I'm writing this journal entry. Because there's something about this meeting… I don't really know how to describe it. But it's something I don't want to forget._

_I remember standing out in the hallway, Irvine having helped me tighten the new bandages one of the Doc's trusted nurses had trussed me up with before aiding me in getting a pair of sweats on. It was still hard to stand upright, vertigo washing over my senses whenever I tried to move. He was accompanying me to ensure I wouldn't fall over on my way to the brig._

_The guard… SeeD cadet Rigger, I think – the kid brother of Jack of the Card Club – was a bit slow in answering the door, but made a hasty departure when Irvine told him to scram. It was then that I first got to lay eyes on the man who'd managed to infiltrate Garden right after we'd arrived._

_He's unimpressive, to say the least._

_Short doesn't color my impressions. Selphie is insanely powerful, but happens to be the shortest person I've ever come across that's veritably an adult. Zell isn't exactly tall yet he's the strongest, most dangerous man I've met other than the monster who cut Rinoa down. Those two with their abilities with magic and sheer physical might destroy any preconceived notion that anyone of diminutive stature might be harmless._

_Same goes for muscle mass – once again, Selphie is my designated example. Zell shows that he's capable, bulging muscles more than visible under his muscle shirts. Selphie, however, is toothpick thin and fragile in appearance. But she's more than capable of dropping a man at a moment's notice, whether with Doomtrain, her insanely outrageous limit breaks or just by bashing a skull in with her flail. Plus I myself have been told I'm not exactly intimidating, yet I can wield a revolver-model gunblade without junctions._

_So while he is shorter than myself and his musculature is wiry to put it best, that doesn't really drive my opinion. Nor does the fairness of his skin, which when coupled with the light sheen of blond hair and brilliant blue eyes make him look immensely young._

_No, it has to do with his stance. The means by which he carried himself when I met him._

_He was slumped even as he sat, demure and quiet and completely unassuming. It didn't seem to be a posture derived by self-consciousness driven by the fact that he smelled a bit rank from not being able to bathe since his capture or was dressed in nothing but those flimsy boxers Medical provides you when all of your belongings to up in blood, smoke or what have you. It seemed to be more derived of his nature._

_His eyes were in fact captivating, their sheen almost seeming to glow in the faint light of the brig, but their unique and intriguing aura was lost when looking at the rest of him._

_Pity._

_He truly resembled the blond stranger in my dream that faces off with the monster that struck me down; however, that man stood with confidence and courage. The man in the prison cell lacked both of those qualities._

_Irvine actually seemed rather crushed when I told him that our prisoner isn't the man who attacked us out at Obel Lake. Guess he really wanted to kick him around a bit._

_Cloud Strife… such an odd name._

_At first I thought that maybe Selphie's supposition that he was using a false name to keep us tracing his true identity might be on the money, but after seeing him…_

_Nah. Cloud actually fits him._

_Plus he wasn't exactly hesitant in answering to that name. Even the most familiar of aliases usually draws a touch of hesitation when the man carrying that alias is suddenly faced with a new interrogator._

_I'd given him a map today. I'd asked Selphie, once she'd brought me news of the captured stranger's inability to put forth any recognizable locations after apparently being on the receiving end of her interrogative stilts for over an hour, to get me a copy of the world map without any locations on it. She'd produced better than I'd expected, giving me the most accurate line-art of the globe that I've ever seen._

_I still have that map on my desk. I'd still love to know where this guy's really from._

_It's pretty evident that he's not from our planet, though. His pen strokes when he was writing the names of the places he was trying to identify the locations of were flawless and lacking hesitance. Those names are names he's mentioned before, both to Irvine's calm and soothing questions and Selphie's stressful badgering._

_It just leave me wondering what the hell a Midgar is. Or if 'Edge' is the name of a town, city, or simply a label denoting the edge of the Midgar. Or how a chocobo farm derives an entire spot on the map dedicated to it._

_The expression on his face was wrought with confusion when he'd started to add landmasses and scribble out islands. I'm positive that if he were falsifying his alien heritage, he would've given these locations labels or scratched them away with more confidence._

_I still find myself bemused that Irvine and Selphie hadn't considered the possibility of encountering an alien intruder. It's not like we haven't dealt with aliens in the past._

_Cloud was able to give me some pretty important information, though._

_He's not unique on his world._

_He's the result of experimentation._

_So the man I am hunting is likely the same._

_If anything could be derived from Zell's state after apparently taking Cloud Strife down a few notches, then they're of like abilities as well._

_I don't remember much of my battle with the silver-haired stranger. I let it rest, buried in the sands of time, rotting beside my happiness and drive for life._

_Studying what Strife is capable of might be to our benefit. Through him, we can learn what my target's fully capable of._

_Selphie should already be pulling the security tapes that caught his fight with Zell. Zell will be able to supplement those tapes with first-hand knowledge. What they present might spur my mind enough to give us a complete picture of what we're dealing with._

_Maybe, with those pieces in place, with fully functioning knowledge of my target's strength, speed, agility and defensive capacities, we can formulate a plan to put him down._

_I know I'll have Selphie. I know I'll have Irvine. There's no way in hell I'm taking Zell – with the pounding he's been through and the obvious pain he still suffers day in and day out, he's likely not going to be at one hundred percent for taking on the man who killed Rinoa. I'm more than willing to bet his knuckles and forearms are still laced with splinter fractures from slamming those fists of his so hard that he made metal warp and put Cloud Strife square on his ass. And Quistis… while I'd love to have her backing me with her magic and her whip, I'd rather leave Garden in capable hands in case I fail to return._

_I don't really want to tap my other resources – I know most of Garden would be chomping at the bit if they knew we were actively hunting down the man who'd put me in the Medical Ward, but I don't want more people at risk than there needs to be. Nida would readily follow me, but Garden needs him more. Xu would likely come, but Quistis needs her aid manning the helm of command. The Card Club members would all rally behind me, but I don't want them killed._

_Hell, I wouldn't take Selphie and Irvine with me, but I know there's no way they'd let me go alone. Irvine could easily stalk me without me noticing him, his skills nothing short of inhuman at times. Selphie would raise me from the dead just to beat me to death for not taking her with me._

_Two out of four of the Orphanage Gang isn't too bad, I guess._

_I might not have Zell or Quistis, but I'll have Cloud._

_Why did I just write that…?_

_Because he'd openly offered to aid me…?_

_Am I that desperate for assistance? Can't be – see the above lengthy paragraph concerning resources._

_But…._

_When Irvine and I were leaving, I felt… something._

_I'd just chewed Cloud out for offering his assistance. It was asinine, after all! Allowing a prisoner to assist Garden personnel? Preposterous._

_But I felt it. A sincerity. A longing. A true desire to be useful._

_And… I saw it._

_Somewhere in the back of my head, I saw things I've never seen before. Things that I was never present for. I felt emotions that in no way were my own._

_I saw a raven-haired girl on a cliff, just out of reach, falling and landing with a sickening crunch of her leg before she could be aided. I saw that same girl, older and more refined, laying wounded upon a metal floor with a sword's deeply inflicted gash racing over her side. I saw her again, older still, staring at the remnants of a building that had been demolished completely. I stared as she rested in a field of wildflowers, beaten and bruised and barely breathing._

_I saw a woman, blond hair spiked and chaotic, resting in a pool of blood as fire licked her frame, those orange flickers of light pouring from the entire landscape._

_I saw a man with spiky black hair laying prone on metal stairs, the background identical to that with which I'd seen the girl with her wound. I saw him again on a cliff, riddled with bullet holes, a wounded smile on his face as he pushed a huge blade towards me._

_I saw a huge dark-skinned man with a gun where his right hand once was, his face shining with woe and abject misery as a ruby-haired man mowed down people without mercy, shooting them as they attempted to crawl up a spiraling staircase to stop him. I saw tears mark that strong bearded face as people screamed and fell to their deaths, the man with red tattoos under his eyes sneering before punching a button that triggered a massive explosion and escaping in the chaos._

_I saw a young girl with shortly trimmed raven locks hanging upon a mountain, screaming and crying to be released – inadequacy washed over me as I watched the same ruby-haired man who'd been the source of the burly gun-armed man's misery turn into the key to her freedom._

_I saw children in a pool, three silver-haired youths before them with wicked smirks on their faces. Eyes met mine, imploring yet distant, innocence overridden by some force that their rescuer was incapable of defeating, the sensation of being just a moment too late overwhelming._

_I saw one of those silver-haired youths resting in thin arms, pain washed over his features and hand grasping for something only his dying eyes could see. Regret saddled itself in my heart, accompanied by realization – the youth that was drawing his final shuddering breaths was controlled by forces greater than he, incapable of deciding his own fate or living his own life, a victim killed for his desperate actions wrought to acquire freedom._

_I saw a girl. Brunette and dressed in pink. Fair skin, beautiful face, large green eyes._

_I watched as she was run through, mere feet away from me._

_I watches as the same monster, the silver-haired beast in his black garb, drew that horribly long sword from her body and smiled._

_And so much pain…_

_Those sensations… those images…_

_Were those Cloud's thoughts? Cloud's memories? Cloud's emotions?_

_Those memories of the beast I'm hunting… he's faced off with him in the past?_

_With such clarity in the visions in the back of my head I… couldn't help it._

_I had to know._

_A quick glance, a trip through memories not my own, a pull on whatever odd junction-link we were sharing courtesy of Eden (at least, I suspect such) that he failed to notice…_

_A reflection in a pane of glass stained with green and filled with bubbling liquid…_

_Blond hair framed brilliant blue eyes._

_I thanked him for wanting to help us, and then immediately fled with Irvine at my side._

_Though I avoided telling him, I knew exactly why he wanted to help us._

_No, not us._

_Me._

_He wanted to help me._

_He doesn't know that the target is the same individual who killed the brunette girl. He doesn't know that the foe he's bested time and time again has risen once more from the grave to terrorize our land as the beast has terrorized his. So it wasn't because he wanted vengeance for the brunette girl. _

_It's because I need help. He wants someone to need him._

_He… wants someone to aid. Someone to assist. Someone to not fail. Someone to protect adequately._

_He thinks himself a failure in that fashion, his day-to-day life a calamity of errors that's resulted in an oddly regular life before his appearance here on our world. He thinks himself a puppet that's finally begun to remove his strings and find a life that he can be adequate in._

_He wants to make a true name for himself, to have a presence he can firmly point to and without hesitation or shame profess 'that is me.' He wants a strong present to lead to a future independent of a muddled and indeterminate past he can't recall with any clarity, something to define himself._

_And within his heart, he wants to define himself as someone dependable. Someone who can aid anyone in any situation._

_That opportunity hasn't been present in his life until now – he's latching onto it._

_I don't know how I know this._

_I just know that… I'm right._

_I know that those visions I had, those images I can recall any moment I choose to focus on them, are his. I know that somehow I've managed to junction straight to his memory._

_Eden is hissing that there's no junction, though… But if it's not, what can it be?_

_Regardless, I can't let it distract me. One dilemma at a time. The focus is the hunt. The focus is the target. The focus is Rinoa's murderer._

_Yeah, I'd be a fool to say I don't need any help. Especially against the foe I'm facing. Especially from someone who's faced him in the past. But still…_

_Cloud… why me?_

* * *

><p>Cloud breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the hand he had been holding day in and day out finally derived some warmth of its own.<p>

The odd buzz in his head, the static stillness of the alien emotions that resided at the base of his mind, had finally begun to amplify and stir. While nothing new was added to the mixture of what he felt, the simple movement, the strengthening of some and weakening of others, brought the blond comfort.

Unlike the unwelcome reintroduction of Jenova's touch upon his brain after his momentary blissful reprieve, he felt solace in the return of movement to those sensations he could now pinpoint as Squall's unintentional interference.

Jenova's acrid touch, the sour green that stained his vision and tainted his senses with bile and poison, that burned his blood with its taint, stood as a harsh reminder of a failed past and loss. The loss of friends, of loved ones, of family, of home. It was a stark recollection of his connection with the epitome of his failures, the one who had once held his awe and envy, who had fallen from grace and taken all of Cloud's dreams and hopes with him, that continued living on within him in some small manner despite his external cessation to exist on more than one occasion. The calamity of the sky, her alien blood seeping through his body with his own, brought nothing but pain and foul bitterness.

The touch of the boy on the bed, however, had become something of a comfort on Cloud's poison-tainted senses as time had slid by. It provided a counterpoint for Cloud to focus on, to drive his attention away from the alien burn in his blood and his brain. The emptiness and hopelessness that slid just a hair's breadth away from his conscious thoughts were warm and smooth as silk, soft despite their darkness. Fleeting yet eternal, those sensations seemed to dart from his conscious attempts to locate them, to touch them, perhaps to attempt to sooth them. The difference as compared to Jenova's strong and forceful attempts to grasp his mind and not let his thoughts stray from the calamity's own was invigorating and intriguing, reassuring even in its mild frustration concerning its foreign feel.

Over the course of the week that had followed the brutish Seifer's visitation, Cloud had allowed all he'd learned to settle fully into his mind.

He was beginning to fully understand what had happened to him.

While he suspected he should be disturbed with the turn of events, he couldn't bring himself to feel any anger or sadness.

He knew now why he'd done what he'd done. While he suspected that Squall's call for aid might have moved him more than he'd garnered originally, he couldn't find any comparison between the Sorcerer moving him and Sephiroth's overtaking of him to deliver the Black Materia that would bring the Planet's doom; the youth who'd called for his aid had done only that – call. It was Cloud's decision to respond. And once he'd chosen to respond, if his movements had been made by his conscious thoughts or by Squall's will to be rescued, Cloud could draw no distinguishing differentiation. Unlike that time when Sephiroth wrenched control of his body and he watched himself move without his will motivating his body, when he'd leapt into the ocean after the drowning SeeD commander he felt that he was in complete command of himself.

He knew Squall needed his help. The soft desperation, the sullen loneliness, the overwrought courage that bordered on reckless abandon and laid buried beneath quiet solitude, refused to outwardly express any desire for assistance, but that desire rested within Cloud's head all the same. The sensations longed for someone to respond to them, to assist them, to come to their rescue.

Cloud was more than willing to answer that call. Because, as he'd confessed to Seifer, the youth needed him more than anyone else in his life.

While his home life with Tifa at _Seventh Heaven_ was indeed wonderful, he always held the sinking suspicion that he was simply passing time in his life, attempting to forget a present devoid of his forgotten past and failing to find anything upon which to set a foundation. It was day-to-day living for himself and himself alone. Certainly he'd come to terms with living for himself being a viable option, but something about following that mandate was unsatisfying.

He wanted to live for another. To define himself in the eyes of others. Living for himself, while an option he was capable of executing to allow him to carry on, wasn't overly rewarding to him.

He'd realized long ago that Tifa simply didn't need him. She longed for him to be around, cared for him, loved him. But love wasn't need.

The same went for Denzel, who had moved on to find his own place in the developing world that was post-Omega Edge and assist those who'd helped him during his most tender and delicate of times as he could. While the boy emulated Cloud in many ways and enjoyed his presence, the warrior wasn't a necessary part of his life.

His friends called upon him plenty – he was never lacking for conversation or company.

Simply, Cloud found himself a home on the post-trauma Planet, but couldn't formulate a purpose. And without purpose, he felt empty.

While the depth to which he had inadvertently tethered himself to the young Commander of the military institution that held him captive was intimidating at first, the descriptions Seifer gave him of his new duties daunting at minimum, Cloud had been reflecting on such during the slow passage of time while holding the pale hand of his charge.

To preserve his humanity. To keep him firmly rooted in the Present rather than allow him to lose himself to Time's eternal river. To protect him, keeping him from necessitating the power that coursed through him, keeping him from lobbing those horribly powerful spells with reckless abandon and drawing the power of whatever God was bound to him through the ties of Sorcery.

The scope of his newly acquired duties was enormous and mind-boggling to the point of being frightening. But it was a fright that also stirred excitement within Cloud's heart.

He was truly and completely needed.

If Sorcery could threaten the very fabric of existence in the hands of a madness-tainted Sorcerer as the tales spun by Cloud's guards suggested, the world itself needed him to keep Squall grounded. Squall needed him to keep him human, to keep him grounded and living. And those responsibilities would never fade.

He refused to allow himself to see his first moments as a failure – while he'd not been able to keep Squall from unleashing with the apparently new power that raced through his unimposing frame, the boy hadn't continued to rampage. Squall had calmed almost instantly, drifting off into a comatose state once they'd reached the room they were being held captive in and he'd been laid upon the bed. And as long as the young Sorcerer maintained his humanity and kept himself free of the craze that swept those who inherited the inhuman power of whatever deity afflicted them, Cloud saw his presence as a successful intervention, preventing what so many breathed was inevitable.

Confusion suddenly came to the forefront of Cloud's mind. Stirring himself out of his internal musings, he looked at the owner of the hand he held, tightening his grip gently on the thin appendage in his palm.

Hazed gunmetal eyes looked back at him, blinking slowly before snapping fully open. "Where…?" he attempted to blurt, trying to bolt upright.

"Woah," Cloud breathed, his hand dropping Squall's and pushing lightly against the Commander's shoulder. "Lay down."

Grunting, eyes narrowing into feral slits, Squall glowered at the ceiling. A few tense seconds passed before he frowned. "Medical?"

"I guess," Cloud supplied with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"My journal… I want my journal."

Blinking owlishly, Cloud looked around the room. "What journal?"

With a snort, Squall tossed his blanket away.

Cloud resisted the urge to grin like a madman when the boy scrambled to regain his blanket and covered himself.

"New question, then. Where the hell are my clothes?"

Amusement came unabashedly to Cloud's mind, his surprise that the young brunet's scowl deepened considerably registering for a split second before he realized that so much as he could sense Squall's emotions in his head, the Sorcerer could likely do the same. "The doctor confiscated them. The nurses claim to have run out of those paper boxers as of two days ago. Same with the charming little gowns that do nothing to preserve anyone's dignity."

"Fantastic," Squall seethed, his voice a low-pitched growl. "Is there anything resembling paper and a writing utensil around this room, at least?"

Cloud sighed before rising from his seat and searching the small accommodations he'd inhabited since the battle with the nameless monster Squall had sunk into the ocean. After much digging through cabinets, he was rewarded with a black utensil loaded with an odd dark inky product that reminded him of a solidified grease stick and a wad of paper napkins used to form lay-down areas for surgical tools. Lifting the board Squall's chart was clipped to from the foot of his bed, he held everything he'd found out to the Commander with a shrug. "Best there is."

Squall accepted the offerings with a nod and a softly breathed 'thanks,' then dedicated himself to scribbling madly, his handwriting shaky at best and his hand flying rapidly over the paper products he held.

A frown took Cloud's lips as he focuses momentarily on what suddenly burst across the back of his mind – panic, worry, fear, rage. With a sigh, he retook his seat and leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his knees and resting his chin firmly in the palm of his hand. "Gil for your thoughts? Provided this world uses gil, I mean… uh…."

A clipped nod answered Cloud. "Gil. Yeah. Thoughts, later."

Cloud waited patiently until Squall breathed a quiet sigh and put the pencil with its grease tip down. He waited as the Commander looked over his writing.

As Squall stuffed his grease-coated napkins behind his pillow and fell back upon it with a grunt, Cloud's eyebrow twitched.

Arching a brow, the brunet's frown matched his blond companions. "What?"

"What was that?"

A puff of breath stirred limp brown bangs. "Journal. Since it's not here, I'll just transcribe that later. Gotta get it down now, though. Before I lose any thoughts. Details." An errant wave of a thin hand accompanied a grumbled, "You know. That kind of thing."

"I don't get to read it?"

"No."

A faint well of irritation bubbled at the base of Cloud's being. "But-"

"Not now," Squall grumbled, cleanly interrupting Cloud's statement. "Just… not now. It's more of a self therapy thing than something to be perused by others, alright?"

Arching a brow, Cloud settled back onto his chair.

And at that moment, looking at the tired youth on the bed, he realized how little he truly knew about his new charge.

He knew plenty about his apparent duty thanks to Seifer's sharp and cynical statements combined with the whispers about apocalyptic destruction from the guards when questioned about why Sorcery was such a big deal. But about the actual Sorcerer in question? Cloud realized he knew next to nothing.

All he was aware of was that something happened to him in Timber. He'd faced off with a clone from Cloud's world, apparently, and been defeated. His wounds were a testament to the battle he'd encountered, healed now only due to the powerful magic that raced through his veins. According to Seifer's snappish comments, he'd also derived that he'd garnered his powers recently – apparently taking them from the previous Sorcery-afflicted individual.

He'd gathered that the only way to become a Sorcerer or Sorceress was to inherit the powers from a Sorcerer or Sorceress that was dying. That only in death could powers be transferred. And that Squall had previously been a Knight – and failed to keep his charge safe.

He also knew that the youth was in command of the Garden he'd been a forced inhabitant of since the day he'd arrived from the energy surge that had swept him from his home. But in truth, that was all.

Cloud started as he lifted his gaze and found himself looking straight into gunmetal eyes.

"I'm just as confused as you are," the young brunet sighed quietly, turning his gaze towards the window the room featured, the fading light of day dancing over his face. "I have no idea how this happened."

Shaking his head, Cloud frowned. "Pity. But actually, I was wondering…"

"What do you want to know?" Squall asked, arching one brow as he diverted his attention back to the other occupant in the room.

"Why me?"

Frowning, Squall bowed his head, studying his hands as he twisted his fingers together in his lap. "I… was wondering the same thing. Have been for awhile."

Groaning, the blond scooted his chair closer to the bed, bringing himself close enough to use the bed itself as a resting place for his arms. Folding them, he rested his chin on his wrists and stared up Squall's frame to watch his face, observing as those ice-coated gray storm eyes flashed with buried emotions that burbled at the base of his brain.

"Maybe instead of wondering about this connection, we should just learn about each other," Cloud offered.

He decided at that moment that, regardless of gender, there was something shamelessly cute about the brunet. Cloud barely suppressed a grin when those stormy eyes sprang wide open and his brow smoothed with astonishment at that simple suggestion, the mental urge to kick himself for not thinking of such an idea first resonating in the back of Cloud's head with crystalline clarity. Moments later, a huff possibly derived of irritation at the thought of being considered cute, Squall forced his face into a scowl before shrugging and snapping his eyes closed. "Sounds… good."

"So tell me about yourself."

Cloud listened as silence filled the minutes.

Finally, Squall grunted. "You first."

With a huff of breath escaping him, Cloud let a timid smile touch his lips. The young Commander's outward coolness and frigid approach barely concealed a warm and shy interior, bathed in uncertainty that he could scarcely cover. Realizing he'd have to break the ice, the blond nodded. "Fine. Cloud Strife. From a snowy village you've never heard of. Joined the army at a young age. Experimented on in my teens. Joined with a band called AVALANCHE. Fought a monopolistic company called Shin-Ra and their SOLDIER General Sephiroth. Watched _Meteor_ nearly destroy my world, survived, watched remnants of Sephiroth rise from nowhere and try to bring him back to life, survived again. Most recent, resident of _Seventh Heaven_ in Edge, living with Tifa Lockhart, a person you've never heard of and will likely never meet. Ran a delivery service."

"That was abbreviated," Squall supplied with a snort.

"Looking for the gory details?"

"Nah."

Cloud shrugged. "Is there anything in particular you want to know?"

A frown that bordered on a pout overtook the youthful brunet's face as he reflected on all that Cloud had said. Cloud realized he was likely comparing it to the reports he'd received from his interrogators, piecing his entire history together without any need for further information. "A few things," Squall finally supplied. "But… I don't want to talk about that now."

Cloud resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The boy was certainly unhelpful. "Now turnabout's fair play," he grunted, gesturing towards the bedridden Commander with a finger.

"Fine," Squall grumbled. "Squall Leonheart. Raised in an orphanage on Centra. Transferred to Balamb Garden in my youth. Trained on this Garden to be a SeeD. Passed the exam my first time up when I was seventeen. Failed a couple missions, met up with a few friends, got whisked to the future and defeated Sorceress Ultimecia. Came back and have been saddled with the job of Commander ever since."

"Wow, details," Cloud said with a snort.

"Whatever," Squall replied.

At that moment, a clearing of a throat interrupted them both. "Speaking of Commander, nice to see you're up," a smooth baritone voice interrupted.

Cloud lifted his head and turned towards the force field even as Squall clutched his blanket a little more protectively over himself. "Irvine," Cloud greeted with a nod.

"How'd'ya do?" the tall auburn-haired man asked with a friendly grin, waving a large bound notebook aloft in one hand. "Now if one of ya'll would drop this force field, that'd be dandy."

The guards who up to that point were practically snoozing in their chairs stirred and gave sloppy salutes to Irvine before disengaging the field. One of the guards snuck a glance in and grinned, lifting a hand to Squall. "Play a game some time, sir?"

"Don't have my deck," the brunet grumbled. "Another time, Spade."

"Now if ya'll don't mind-" Irvine began.

"Sure thing," the man Squall'd called 'Spade' replied with a shrug, cutting neatly into Irvine's coming order. Tapping his mate on the shoulder, he gestured towards the door to the Medical Ward with a nod of his head even as he grabbed his weapon, a large staff with weighted metal ends, and wandered out of sight. The other guard joined up with him moments later.

"Nice to see you again," Cloud breathed, stretching and sighing with heartfelt relief that the murderous electrical field had been dropped.

"Same here. Thought you might want this, Squall," the cowboy stated, replying to Cloud and shuttling his attention off to the apparent focal point of his visit.

"Yeah. Thanks," Squall responded, grabbing almost greedily for the notebook and pulling the napkins out from under his pillow. Looking suspiciously at the cowboy moments later even as he retrieved the pen that was cleverly hidden in its binding, he scowled. "You haven't read it, have you?"

"Nah. I respect your privacy. And before you ask, I had it out of Selphie's reach on top of the kitchen cabinets in our suite."

"Thanks," he responded with a visible sag of his shoulders, his frame slumping in relief as he began to transpose his earlier scribblings.

"Don't mention it," Irvine stated, his lips turning slightly towards a frown. "Actually… the journal wasn't really why I came down here."

Cloud arched a brow, crossing his arms and frowning. "What's up?" he questioned lazily.

"Just… Xu's on her way down. You might wanna be presentable."

A scathing glower from Squall's direction nearly sent shivers down both Irvine's and Cloud's spines. "I mean, as presentable as you can be, given current circumstances. I'll be getting you some of your belongings in a few, alright?" Irvine quickly stammered in an attempt to rectify his statement.

"Thanks," Squall hissed quietly before seeming to stir out of his concentrative staring at the pages and focusing on Irvine's presence. "You said Xu's on her way down… information on the target?"

"Nah, not really," Irvine quietly supplied, his earlier cheer evaporating quickly.

"Information on a target?" Cloud whispered, looking between the two of them.

"Truth be told we've got some, but… Selphie'll join up with us later. And Zell. He's been helping her out on the mainframe."

"Dear Hyne, tell me it's survived his kicks," Squall snorted.

Cloud blinked as Irvine failed to reply, instead turning his focus to the door to the hallway beyond. "Squall, she's here."

Cloud watched as Squall clicked his pen, every movement practiced to perfection and screaming of far too much time behind a desk for someone with heavy weapon-derived calluses on his fingers. With a bare glance he had the writing utensil stashed back in its slot in his notebook's binding and had his private journal sealed and stashed by his pillow. Sitting upright, his blanket strategically pooled around his lower body, he folded his hands and patiently looked towards the door of their shared room.

The young woman standing outside of the room's confines nervously shifted from one foot to the other, her hands folded before her and her pearly white teeth worrying a soft pink lower lip. Brown eyes stared ruefully at the floor as shoulder-length brown locks brushed over the heavily garnished shoulder-guards that were worn by SeeD personnel.

"Xu," Squall crisply greeted, a small nod moving his bangs as he greeted her.

"Squall," she replied, her voice soft but hardly lacking in firm resolution. A soft sigh leaked from her lips as she ceased worrying her lip and straightened her posture.

Striding into the room, her footfalls purposeful and her stance simmering with professionalism, the young brunette woman's forceful aura nearly encouraged Cloud to recoil and make way for her. Nearly shaken from his station by Squall's side, he shuffled from one socked foot to the other, his nervousness compounded by the stern sheen to her eyes as she regarded both him and his charge.

Without further delay, she turned her serious gaze fully on Squall. "I have news you need to hear. It's best that you receive it now, before the faculty gets word and things get out of hand."

Cloud shuddered as an overwhelming sensation of dread powered through all the bundled emotions that simmered in his depths. His own dread, compiled with fear of the unknown and frustration at being so completely out of the loop that he had no idea how to confront the emotions the youth at his side was being buried by, crushed his ability to truly harness that unique sensation that was Squall.

"I take it that it's not… good news?" Squall asked, his voice surprisingly soft and subdued.

Even as Irvine removed his hat and worried it in his fingers, Xu frowned and hung her head, her resolve to maintain eye contact with the bedridden brunet failing her. "Squall… you know what I'm here to say, don't you?"

"Because of what happened?"

"Everyone on Garden knows. Some doubt if you'll be able to maintain your allegiance to us," she stated, her voice cracking as it approached a whisper. "So… the upper chain of command made their decision. It's…. they feel it's in the best interest of the Garden. After all, given… everything, how can you rightfully command us?"

Irvine's hat made a soft 'piff' sound as it fell to the floor. "Now hold on just a Hyne-damned minute!" he bit sharply, his voice lifted with anger. "You can't-"

"Irvine," Squall interrupted, his head bowed as Xu's was and his voice quiet.

"-tell me that just because he happened to light off, we're kickin' him down! C'mon, who else could ever be a Commander as good as he is?"

Cloud stared, his voice lost completely, his confusion blown apart by sudden understanding.

Squall was being relieved of his command.

Because he was a Sorcerer.

Because Garden's focus was to destroy Sorcerers who made themselves threats to the world.

The destroyer of Sorcerers couldn't very well have a Sorcerer leading them, could it?

"Xu, let's be reasonable!" Irvine continued, his tirade barreling unhindered from him even as his eyes, narrowed in rage, shined in the steadily failing light of the sun. "No one can replace him. No one! Cid Kramer's out of his damned mind if he thinks anyone else can do half as good of a job as Squall here!"

Shaking her head, she waited for Irvine to stop, his fists balled at his sides before she licked her lips. "It's… more than that."

"What do you mean?" Cloud instantly burst, one hand flying to Squall's shoulder.

Barely casting a glance to Cloud, Xu sighed as she crossed her arms before her chest and shook her head. "Delling, Timber and Dollet are requesting we hold the Sorcerer indefinitely. The sinking of Eden off the continental coast has them up in arms. And with the display that was picked up on world surveillance, Esthar's making noise much to the same effect. They know the Sorcerer's here… there's no way to deny it, given the evidence every advanced nation in the world has in their hands."

"Wha…?" Irvine breathed even as Cloud's grip on Squall's tightened and his eyes narrowed.

"You're going to keep him captive?" Cloud hissed, his teeth gritting together.

Xu bit her lip and looked at Squall, her eyes imploring, seeking something from the young Sorcerer.

With a sigh, Squall closed his eyes. "It's to be expected, I guess. They know the Sorcerer's onboard Garden. Do they know it's me?"

Blinking, Xu lightly pressed a fingertip to her chin. "I don't believe your identity's been released. But with everyone on Garden knowing, it's just a matter of time," she quietly mused.

Cloud looked down at Squall, noting the expression on his face – desperation coupled with buried anger, blanketed by sorrow. With a scowl, he directed his gaze to Irvine.

"If they don't know it's Squall yet," Irvine was already surmising, chewing on his thumb, "then we can get him outta here. Cid can wheel and deal all he likes. All we've gotta do is keep the world convinced that we've got the Sorcerer here, locked up on Garden. And keep those who'd spout off who it is silent."

"Might be tough. You know my intentions," Squall growled quietly to Irvine. "I'm not letting this go. And if I have to use that power to put him down-"

"I know, I know. We can blame that on there being more than one, and SeeD can conveniently come save the day and put it down before anyone gets wind of who it might be," Irvine interrupted with a grin. "Tell me you're well enough to get off this floating jalopy, Squall."

"Once I have clothing," the brunet stated bluntly with a frown.

"Alright, that can be readily fixed. There's a bar that's still standing out in town. A bit shady, but it's only three blocks down the main road and has a few rooms available. Just… don't ask any questions, right?" Irvine casually supplied.

"Got it," Cloud replied. Turning his attention, he rested his eyes on the woman with her chewed lips. "Listen, Ms. Xu-"

"We never had this conversation," she bluntly stated, turning sharply on her heel. "I've got to check on our prisoner in the brig. Even though he's a Sorcerer, he's not invulnerable – we've dealt with enough to prove such. Maybe he's died of his injuries incurred in his fight with Eden by now."

As Irvine left the room as silently as he'd arrived and Squall clutched his journal to his chest, Cloud let his gaze follow the young woman out of the room, her figure embraced in gray as twilight dominated the sky outside.

"Thank you."

_-to be continued-_

Review reply to ye who aren't signed in!

raerobdestiny: Sorry I didn't get around to replying to your review in the last chapter. Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Thanks much for the critiques and here's to hoping you stick around to the bitter end – it's only a few more chapters away, after all. :) As for Rinoa not putting up a fight? Who's to know? She may have – Squall's just not going into detail about it. A bit torn up and all, you know. XD And as for CxS? Well… we'll have to see. And who's Tifa? Cowboy erased Tifa long ago in the fluffy chocobo-brain. (j/k) Mweheheheh.

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><p>AN: GAW, CHAPTER 9! And I put that thing out around CHRISTMAS? My FAVORITE CHEERY ANNUAL HOLIDAY? (is shot) Hopefully this rapidly turned out chapter helped rectify that! GAW! I FELL LIKE A HEEL! (is punted 8,000,000,000 times in the head for daring to put Chapter 9 out during Christmas, of all seasons)


	11. The Sun Will Set

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha. Additional review replies that couldn't be made via PMs at the bottom. Enjoy the fic!

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 11  
><span>The Sun Will Set…<span>

_I… understand now that I really don't need to keep my journal._

_With no Guardian Force in my head, I'm at no risk of losing my memories. As a matter of fact, they're so crystalline and clear now that it frightens me._

_I remember everything – my recent past with Rinoa and my friends, every iota of detail concerning my training, every facet of my past with Seifer. I recall the day Matron turned myself and Seifer Almasy over to Garden jurisdiction. I remember the day Ellone left. My first hacking attempt, my first monster encounter, my first human kill are all splayed across my mind's eye, simply waiting for me to focus on them in order to play with brilliant detail and vivid sound._

_Every horrible moment of my life erased by Shiva is there for the recollection. Every happy thought consumed by Eden has returned._

_My original purpose for my journal is moot. So… why to keep writing it…?_

_I guess I'm writing this now because I need to straighten out my head. It doesn't help that I can remember everything I ever wanted (or didn't want, in some cases) to recall if I can't make sense of the present._

_I'm limited on supplies right now. My journal is… elsewhere. I just woke up in the Medical Ward. And what's on the forefront of my mind right now is dreams._

_I'm thinking, specifically, about Selphie and her profession that Guardian Forces, when permanently tethered to the brain, can bring prophetic dreams. Somehow I think she's on to something, but it barely skimming the truth._

_Thing is, with Eden removed from my mind, I'm still having these dreams. The same ones I've been haunted by in recent times, just more intense and with greater detail. And… there's more._

_It's like when I'm sleeping, if I want to see into the future, I can see into the future. If I want to revisit the past, all I have to do is choose a place, a time, a focal point, and I'm viewing it._

_It's frightening me._

_It's not like I can project myself there or anything, or like I can alter the past, but the very fact that I can view it from any focal point is terrifying. I've seen what some of my battles looked like from Zell's eyes. I've watched my duel with Seifer from his perspective. I've seen myself and Rinoa from Angelo's point of view._

_It's… so real. So present. It's like it's something I can reach out and touch, harness and grasp and make my own. Except it's not, because it's the past. It's memories. Visions. Events long gone that can never be mine again._

_But the very image of her… the warmth of her…_

_Hyne, if only I could figure out a way to harness those moments and bring them to myself again…._

_But that would be like making my dreams reality. Which is funny, because that seems to be what's happening in some instances._

_Selphie was saying Guardian Forces make it happen – I think she's a little off the mark._

_Guardian Forces are tethered to the planet itself. Some are tethered to something far above and beyond it._

_Siren? Ifrit? Shiva? Clearly of the planet. Eden? Not so much._

_Maybe Doomtrain is something like Eden. Something otherworldly trapped on our planet. Something with power beyond a normal Guardian Force._

_But then again, he's never displayed such._

_Maybe it's simply that rather than drawing his might from the planet, he draws his power from Hyne. Rather like Tonberry King and Bahamut seem to._

_And maybe it's Hyne's might that gives these prophetic dreams to those with the deliverers of his power stuck in their skulls._

_After all, he was the First Sorcerer, wasn't he? She? It? Whatever the heck Hyne actually is? And as we've seen via Ultimecia, Sorcery can have sway even over Time itself._

_She could see the past. She knew who would align themselves with her, and where they were located. She could see when Adel would be freed of her prison and how she could expedite that process. And once she attained Odine's machine that mimicked Ellone's strange abilities to send a person's consciousness back in time to witness the Past, she used her own Sorcery to manipulate the Past that she'd previously witnessed, harnessing those she knew would side with her in her ultimate goals to maneuver her future to its desired conclusion._

_She saw the past – and apparently I can see through Time as well._

_Hyne, the deity who is ensnared in the moon, whose power flows through every person who's ever been bequeathed the powers of Sorcery, very likely could do the same. So it stands to reason that these future-seeing dreams are from Hyne himself rather than simply a product of the Guardian Force infusion in a human's mind._

_The fact that Selphie was right in one aspect, though; that those dreams can and do come true… that in of itself is terrifying._

_I never expected to see one of my dreams become reality._

_Especially not the one where I fought Eden._

_I'd summoned her in the Training Center. I'd gone there to blow some steam – I was frustrated, confused and antsy. Dealing with… recent events, the fact that I'm all but trapped onboard this Garden with no recourse to hunt the source of my pain, and the bewildering sensations I was feeling ever since encountering Cloud Strife had me more twisted and befuddled than I care to confess to anyone. I've always found solace in the simplicity of battle – the ease of exerting myself in either a simple training exercise or a life-or-death brawl always manages to take my mind off of whatever's bothering me, inducting me into the oblivion of action where thoughts only consist of the strategy necessary to come out on top of the confrontation. When there's no time for reflection, for self-exploration, for emotional perusing of all that my heart and mind hold, then I can find relaxation._

_I had thought far enough ahead to gather my gunblade, but really wasn't focusing on the possibility of facing anything more extensive than a grat. So magic? Feh. Why bother, if all I intended to face were simple plant monsters that withered the moment a guy smacks them overly hard with a gunblade?_

_When I'd been pinned between three T-Rexaurs, I panicked. Maybe I could have run – I don't know. All I know is that the Headmaster's probably pissed to high hell over what I've done._

_I summoned. It seemed my only recourse at the time. I was afraid – I had no viable option for fleeing, and with only my gunblade I was woefully unprepared for facing off with T-Rexaurs._

_I didn't expect what happened._

_When Eden was summoned, it was like she ripped herself completely free of me. Probably because that's exactly what happened._

_I didn't think Guardian Forces could do that. But then again, Eden's never met any of the wickets of an ordinary Guardian Force in the first place._

_She stripped her presence completely out of my mind and brought herself entirely into our reality. Then she unleashed her attack and demolished nearly the entire Training Center._

_At first, I'd thought I was free and clear of the attack – after all, she didn't envelop me in her blast as she did the T-Rexaurs I'd been facing. I thought that maybe, with everything that's happened recently, my tired mind was imagining the sensations I was feeling and that the summon went off as normal, just with slightly more… drastic effects than normal. Why I thought that I have no idea. Doesn't make any sense now that I write it._

_But then she blasted the Garden. Very deliberately, I might add._

_My dream became absolute reality. My hand got stuck, my fingers twisted, in the hilt of my gunblade. I was hurled into the water when Garden began to violently list. My friends brought summons forth from the Ragnarok to face off with Eden. Quezacotyl was blasted right out of the sky by an errant fling of Eden's massive wings. Cloud Strife leapt to my rescue and protected me, going so far as to grab my gunblade and attempt to face off with Eden, the bringer of Apocalypse herself._

_And…_

_The spells that I saw pulverize her in my dreams indeed came to reality._

_But they were coming from me._

_Before, I was wondering just where Rinoa could be in my dreams. Those spells were something only a Sorceress could hurl, power far above and beyond anything that could be channeled by an ordinary human's body even with the assistance of Guardian Forces. _

_I felt it. Magic coursing through my body, hot and searing in my blood, like fiery lightning racing along my nerves. But… it wasn't painful. It was… sheer ecstasy. The most intense but invigorating thing I've ever felt. It was kind of like… picking off a scab or yanking out a hangnail at first – a shock, a bright flash, and then utter relief and enjoyment. Like those nights when I would lie with Rinoa and she'd dig her nails into my back – a bite of sensation followed instantly by unmatched pleasure._

_I remember everything so keenly – the sensation of magic racing through me, the brush of wings – my wings! – on my back, the soft brush of feathers on my overheated skin, the burning of Ultimas and Flares and Meteors that I didn't have junctioned pouring from Hyne himself to bleed through me and burst into reality. It was… sensational._

_And as I continued to cast, the magic coming to me unabated and unhindered, the moon itself turning to look upon the one who commanded its might, I began to feel it._

_Concern. Lots of concern and confusion._

_And it definitely wasn't mine._

_It… was Cloud. Just as the images I'd seen in my earlier imaginings had been his memories, just as his desires had been channeled to me, his emotional state was being broadcast loud and clear to me._

_And unlike before, when it was something that I felt when I thought about it, it was now continuous. I didn't even want to focus on it – it was just there._

_Is… this how it was for Rinoa? Could she feel me at all times, without the ability to segregate her emotions from my own? To block my worrying from her mind?_

_Is this what it's like to have a Knight?_

_Is this… what it's like to be…_

_Does that mean… that when we faced with him… when she begged for me to let her die…._

_I let her die._

_I took her power._

_I wasn't even aware I was doing it, but I did it anyway._

_I… killed her._

_But the other dream that I have, the one with Rinoa in it… does that mean that what he was saying when we fought…._

_I wish I could write more, but I'm out of surgical napkins._

* * *

><p>Cloud's fingers tightly gripped the steering wheel of the vehicle as he brought it to a stop.<p>

The road had finally come to an end.

"You're sure this is the right way?" he asked, turning his attention to the only other occupant of the vehicle.

Closing his journal with a sigh, Squall lifted his gaze from the notebook and looked out of the window. "Yeah. Keep going straight towards the lake. Ground's not so bad that this car can't take it."

A mild shrug moved Cloud's shoulders as he moved his foot away from the brake pedal and set it lightly on the accelerator.

"You drive like an old man," Squall snorted.

Scowling even as he detected a hint of amusement, Cloud gripped the wheel more tightly. "Well, excuse the hell out of me. I'm not used to wheels like this. Or cars like this. Give me a motorcycle any day."

Staring at the rough and wild land that sprawled before them, Cloud kept his speed slow and his grip firm despite the longing within him to swiftly reach his destination. After all, regardless of his desire to hurry, he also wished to arrive in one piece.

And, deep within the recesses of his heart, Cloud was harboring doubts that his desire to rush to the target of the morning's drive was truly his own. Rather he suspected the young Sorcerer who sat at his side staring moodily out of the vehicle's window was driving them both to their inevitable destination.

Cloud had his suspicions concerning what rested at the end of their journey. He felt he knew what was waiting for them, and a portion of him feared it. And while he desired perhaps to see this task ended, he was irresolute in his longing to see it approach so quickly.

The youth at his side had faced with another like him, someone swept from his world to inhabit this new and foreign land. He'd faced what sounded by all descriptions to be a clone. And the young Sorcerer had lost his battle. Given the professed prowess he was supposedly acclaimed of given the accounts of his followers on the Garden he once commanded, accompanied by the professions that he was an equal to the blond martial artist who'd put Cloud on his back when he had a weapon in his hands, the youth had either been caught completely unawares or had faced something beyond him; that something, Cloud suspected, might be equivalent to the clone he'd faced with multitudes of times before the SOLDIER General himself had been awakened – akin to the beast that killed Aerith, that hunted them with Jenova's remnants as offerings to test their might, that collapsed only when its life was stripped from it by the monstrous Jenova herself upon the awakening of Sephiroth.

Cloud frowned as he slowly piloted their vehicle and Squall stared moodily out of his window.

They were both without their companions. Perhaps if Squall had that martial artist with him, maybe the sniper Cloud had failed to notice until his shout for his friend gave his position away, he'd have a reasonable chance of emerging from the impending battle victorious. Perhaps if Cloud had any of his comrades he'd descended to the center of the Planet with, he'd have an easier time.

While he was certain he could take a clone alone, he found an inkling of fear resting firmly in his heart.

Squall would be there.

Squall would be vulnerable.

And if Cloud failed to protect him, Squall would die.

"We'll be fine," Squall's voice quietly muttered, startling Cloud straight out of his thoughts.

Cloud looked over to find himself staring into hard storm-colored eyes. "You really think so?" he asked, his voice colored in doubt.

"Yeah." Returning his view to the world outside of the passenger-side window, Squall nodded. "We're not alone. We've got each other. I'll be ready this time. And even if I'm not, you won't let me fall. I… guess that I trust you."

Swallowing hard, Cloud nodded slowly.

"Plus if things get tight, we've got recourse."

A tiny shiver ran along Cloud's spine as memories came flooding back to him; the huge feminine monster, the continual explosive bursts of _Ultimas_ far beyond anything he'd ever seen wielded by a human, the burning of _Flares_ and the fear in the eyes of SeeD mercenaries. The foreboding words of the brutish man who'd snarled what Cloud's ultimate duties were thanks to hefting a mantel onto his shoulders that he'd not even known existed. The weight of confirmation in the words of those who sided with the one who'd fallen from grace.

"That won't be necessary," Cloud said firmly as he focused on the bumpy ground that he was rolling his car timidly over. "You've got your gunblade. I've got my sword. We can take him."

He barely heard the sigh at his side as he eased his foot a little further off the accelerator, slowing down before barreling into what appeared to be deep and muddy ruts in the ground before them.

Cloud was positive now that the desire to hurry that rested within his being wasn't his own. The tiny sliver of doubt, the soft haze of apprehension and the buried longing to simply run were his true feelings.

Squall wasn't going to hesitate to use those very powers that could demolish his own humanity. For the sake of putting the one who'd killed his Sorceress into a premature grave, he was willing to sacrifice everything short of his own life. Perhaps if it was his only method for destroying his target, he'd throw that away as well.

Cloud realized that he couldn't allow that to occur. Not simply for the supposed sake of the world or even the sake of Squall himself, not to fulfill the obligatory duties of a Knight or to prove himself in this new land he'd been banished to by the magical energy that's ensnared him and wrenched him away from his home.

It was more for his own desires that he wouldn't desire such to pass.

The youth at his side, quiet and reserved yet fiery and passionate under the glacial shell he presented to the world, was fascinating and intriguing enough to draw Cloud's attention. And buried under that ice and the sharp words accompanied by crystalline glares was a boy who needed protection, who desired peace, whose emotional frailty verily begged for someone to hold him and never let him go.

Cloud had come to realize over the last night, through their long and halted conversations colored by emotions unintentionally felt through the bond they shared, that Squall needed him not simply as a defender and a foundation in the Present that he could rely upon to not lose himself to Sorcery, but as a companion to keep him company, and perhaps something a little more. A sidelong look to the youth beside him that encouraged Cloud's heart to patter with worry over the swiftly approaching Future settled it in his mind; he wouldn't mind filling any role the brunet would ask him to fill.

While he certainly was missing Tifa, his heart saddened by the knowledge that his chances for getting home might indeed be slender at best and his lips longing to touch hers once more, an equivalent desire to stay by his Sorcerer's side bubbled in his soul.

They both held qualities that made them immensely desirable, Cloud reasoned to himself. Tifa was strong, independent and fiercely protective, yet still had enough softness and gentleness to assure all around her of her femininity with her delicate smiles. Squall was powerful, confident and steady, yet was shy and quaking with the desire for companionship under his surprisingly sturdy shield. Tifa adored him. Squall needed him. Tifa made a home with him. Squall asked him to share his future with him. And neither one was difficult on the eyes.

Because, so far as Cloud was concerned, he'd had decided that gender didn't stand between them – only the boy's own timid nature did.

While he found it odd that morning as he drove to find himself so willing to stay by the ex-SeeD's side, he also discovered a sensation of reassurance.

If he was destined to be stuck here, surely it could be worse. Spending his days at Squall's side, defending him as his Knight, wouldn't be so bad.

But to lose him to the clone that certainly rested at the end of the road, to spend his days trapped on the alien world dominated by its massive nations and conflicts and powerful monsters, would be terrible.

Of that, he was certain.

Letting himself daydream a bit at the wheel, Cloud tried to recall all that he'd learned over the last few hours, over the course of the time he and Squall had spent together since walking away from the massive Garden and onto the first land Cloud had felt under his feet – the land of a nation apparently called Timber.

He and Squall had found the bar that Irvine had suggested they retreat to, having strolled unchallenged off of Garden via its front gate that rested level with the pier that serviced it after Irvine had seen to it that they each had a duffle bag with a change of clothing plus what they'd had when they'd been admitted to the Medical Ward and Squall had visited a young woman who was something called an 'accountant' to liquidate his assets into paper gil. While many eyes observed their passage, not a single person made any move to stop them – in fact, many wore mournful expressions and more than one offer to hook up at a later time to play cards, converse or assist were made. While Cloud was surprised at the lack of resistance, part of his mind recalled what his guards had stated – the Garden was divided and fractured, and apparently many of its personnel still supported their previous Commander despite him becoming the very antithesis of what they stood for.

The establishment the auburn-haired cowboy had directed them towards was a run down hovel. Deposited in the middle of a conglomeration of ramshackle buildings that sported cracks that Squall pronounced were caused by a powerful earthquake, it was hidden in shadows and devoid of identifying markings beyond a stylized beer stein decorating a beaten wood door. Once inside, eyes had difficulty seeing through the thick, seemingly perpetual smoky haze that permeated everything and smelled of cigarettes, cheap perfume and stale liquor.

The people looked tired and bedraggled, faces untrusting and unfriendly as they stared at the interlopers who'd dared to enter the business. A thick man behind the bar, his fingers drumming aimlessly on the thick wood as a heavy scowl turned his lips, followed them with his gaze as they walked with heavy footsteps across the unpolished floor. "No service if you don't have hard cash," he'd growled, his voice as burly as the rest of him.

Squall had shrugged. "No problem," he'd replied, his calm and professional stance downplaying any attempt of the bar's proprietor to instill discomfort in either of them. He'd had few problems from the moment he slid a couple bills of high denomination gil slips under the man's fingers, managing to procure them a single room out of the two they had available and a promise that no one would be informed of their presence and no one would disturb them.

While alone in the room they'd procured, Squall had granted Cloud the courtesy to know what was going on – he'd told his Knight a touch more about his Sorceress, of their chance encounters at Obel Lake that had lead to the summoning of the monstrous Eden, about the revisit that had terminated in the Sorceress' death. He'd quietly told Cloud of the romance between Sorceress and Knight, how they'd met, how they'd fallen in love, what they'd had planned and how it had come to a disastrous end. When Cloud brought questions, Squall answered them to the best of his ability and was rewarded with further explanations of Cloud's upbringing. Cloud had shared what he knew of himself, from his uninspired childhood with his loneliness and poverty, to his stint in the Shin-Ra Army that resulted in the experimentation that resulted in his state, concluding with descriptions of his friends and their journey to defeat the threats that terrorized the Planet. Cloud had told Squall of Sephiroth, of the remnants, of Omega Weapon and of his life after the chaos.

The two of them, once they'd finally run out of drive to speak of themselves, had decided that rest and relaxation was paramount. After Squall had spent some time silently scribing something into his journal and refusing once more to allow Cloud the opportunity to peruse it, they'd turned in for the remainder of the day.

Their first night spent off Garden was marvelous in Cloud's mind. It was the first time since he'd arrived on Squall's world that he'd gotten to lay down on a mattress and be in something other than a comatose state for the event.

While he had to share the mattress with the youth he was accompanying, it truly didn't bother him as much as he'd though it would – Squall being as private and reclusive as he was, they simply curled up on opposite sides of the bed and drifted off into slumber.

Cloud also didn't find any reason to complain when the sleeping Sorcerer had drifted in his sleep, snuggling up against Cloud's warm body with an unconscious sigh. Cloud might have arched a brow, but let it go – with Squall's proximity, the reverberating emotions in his mind powerful and quaking, he didn't want to interrupt the young brunet's freshly-discovered peace. He had simply made certain that he wormed his way out of the bed before Squall awakened, leaving him clinging to a pillow with content satisfaction dancing along the connection they shared.

The morning had been greeted with dark coffee and greasy food, a deliverance of eggs and bacon with soggy toast laden with heavy butter. The food had been eaten in silence, that silence only broken once a slender and darkly dressed man had approached them, his head hung low and his bangs covering his sharply angled face. Cloud's instantaneous reaction had been to reach for nonexistent weaponry and subsequently arm himself with a dirtied butter knife despite his Sorcerer's calm outward appearance, the connection they shared lending Squall's buried unease to him.

That unease had faded when the man had seated himself and lent the former Commander a greasy smile and thin hand in greeting, asking in a voice harsh and scratched if he'd entertain him with a game.

Cloud had watched with interest, the concept of their game simple enough for him to grasp it with observation, the rules adhered to the concept mind-boggling and devilishly devious to the point of losing his ability to comprehend what was going on completely.

Few words had passed between the two during their game – the dark-haired stranger had lamented that even with 'Random' in place Squall had managed to draw his Edea card from his deck, Squall growling softly as the man he played against had the fortune to present a highly numbered card featuring something called a Doomtrain and claimed a corner. The stranger had laughed and held his head as a low-numbered card called a Fastitocalon-F managed to flip a card of his due to a rule called 'Same Wall.' Squall had smirked when he'd placed a card with a creature he called a 'Tri-Point' on it down and flipped cards in a combo.

Finally, the dark-haired stranger had sighed and placed his last card. "I concede defeat."

"Good," Squall had muttered softly even as he took a card whose monster Cloud recognized – a Tonberry – and shuffled it into his deck. Even as the opponent he'd beaten stared at him with wide eyes, the youth shrugged. "Got a Doomtrain."

The oily smile then faded into something more genuine as the odd man picked up his remaining cards and nodded. "Alright. In thanks for answering my challenge, I suppose I can open my shop to you, Leonhart."

"Appreciated, Card Magician Joker," he'd responded, leaning close across the table. Cloud craned his neck to listen in. "We've got clothing and my gunblade. That's it. I can buy necessities in town, but we're a bit short on… other things."

"I'm all ears," the man had stated with a nod.

"Cloud needs a Claymore at the very least. I'd like it better if I could make him a Sunblade. Best if it's a Caladbolg."

"You know there's a junk shop that's still standing nearby?"

"I do now. Need some materials."

"We can do business. I'll stop by the shop and ensure they've got a base model. What do you require?"

Squall pressed a fingertip to his chin. "As I recall, four energy crystals, a handful of screws, a few dragon fangs, a mesmorize horn and at least five of those moon stones."

"Got just about all of that, as a matter of fact. Except for the mesmorize horn. But there may in fact be a CC member running around with Quezacotyl ensuring that the area's secure. One more game should get you the card refining you need. The rest of the materials will be waiting at the shop for you."

As Squall passed a few gil notes even as he frowned. "The refiner. Spade or Diamond? And any chance at any stones?"

Winking, the man had reached into the pockets of his pants. "Diamond, and perhaps. I've got three Auras and a handful of Curagas on me. For you, minimal charge."

Cloud blinked, watching as a low denomination gil note was passed and nine rocks, three of them yellow and the rest slightly pink, were given to Squall. With a shrug, Squall held them to Cloud and nodded. "Yours. Just in case."

Not knowing what else to do, Cloud had simply muttered an appreciative 'Thanks' before slipping them into his pocket.

"Now, news, Joker. If you have any."

Clearing his throat, the man had hung his head, speaking towards the table, encouraging both the Sorcerer and his Knight to move in closer to hear him. "Trouble is brewing around Garden. None who oppose you witnessed you leaving. No one will be informed that you're gone. But the stand-in Commander is under pressure from both Esthar and Delling to prove that they have the Sorcerer in custody. Esthar claims to have new methods for testing for traces of Sorcery dreamed up by Odine himself – he's determined that something in the very structure of a person's cells is altered when infused with Sorcery, and that change apparently is not erased even when the power's passed on. Delling's actually siding with their rival nation on this one."

"And they have no prisoner, and no body," Cloud had softly muttered with a scowl turning his lips. "Meaning our time being sedentary is limited."

"No matter," Squall had growled quietly. "Our business will be engaged tomorrow. We can be off the continent in a week."

"Where will you go?" the man who'd been referred to as 'Joker' questioned.

"Nowhere," Squall had roughly replied.

"Smart man," 'Joker' said with a smile. "Then please, keep me in mind when you go 'nowhere,' Squall. I'm always game for a good opponent. Plus you never know when my services will come in handy."

"No worries. Don't change your number, and I'll get in touch with you."

"Change yours," the man had said shortly.

"It'll be changed when we get gone. I've got one more task for my cell phone," Squall stated blandly.

"Suit yourself."

Folding his hands together, Squall sighed, his eyes distant and his face calm even as he stared at the door beyond the man called 'Joker.' "Then this will be our last meeting for awhile."

"Wrong, Squall," the man stated even as he had risen from his chair. "We never met at all."

The rest of their day had been spent milling around the town. Cloud had been astonished that they'd simply rented an automobile, that the world he was now inhabiting had such luxuries available for day use without proper ownership for minimal charge. When he'd commented on the oddity of being able to possess a car for a number of days and fill it with fuel on any corner, Squall had stared at him and asked quite shortly how backwards the world he was from could possibly be that Budget Rent-A-Car or a derivation thereof doesn't exist.

After stocking up with duffle bags loaded with random supplies and food, they had located a pair of SeeD women that Cloud recognized as being the pair who had stood guard outside of the Medical Ward door when he and Squall had been held prisoner there. The women had greeted them both enthusiastically, then laughed outright when challenged to a game of cards.

An hour later, Cloud was standing at Squall's side as he handed a wickedly curved blade that apparently was the horn of some monster called a mesmorize over to a man in a ramshackle store. While it had taken Cloud by surprise that the girls were both identified by the name Diamond and they could make a card turn into an item with nothing more than a few flares of purple energy granted by something called a Quezacotyl, he had been even more shocked when a fine blade was laid upon the counter he and Squall were lingering by in the run-down hovel called a 'Junk Shop.' A hesitant hand reached for it and took it up, only to further deepen Cloud's surprise as the fine craftsmanship of the weapon became evident.

It was a heavy, shining straight silver blade, approaching the length of his old Buster Blade but considerably thinner and double-edged. A thick hilt swept over his hand, nearly encasing it in a basket to protect his fingers during a fight and counteracting the weight of the enormous sword's elongated sharpened blade. Notches ran the course of its edges, tinted in a soft blue that was replicated in the bloodletting trough that highlighted the blade's middle. A heavy knob, crafted into the shape of a roaring lion's head, made up the pommel at the black-leather wrapped silvery hilt's termination. A quick swing told Cloud all he needed to know – it was perfectly balanced, heavy though not overly so, tightly manufactured and solidly constructed; it was a blade that would be able to withstand all the punishment he could put it through and readily take more.

"Almost makes my First Tsurugi feel cheap by comparison," Cloud had softly breathed even as Squall had paid for the weapon and they'd returned to their rented vehicle.

"Glad you like it," the young Sorcerer had acknowledged even as he'd crawled into the passenger seat of the car and wrestled his journal out of one of the duffle bags he'd tossed into the back seat. "If you don't mind, I'd like you to put that to use tonight."

"You intend to find your target?" Cloud had questioned softly, his eyes widened with a touch of concern and dread.

"Figured best way to seek him out is starting from square one. Rinoa and I ran into him at Obel Lake. He might still be there. If so, we finish this tonight. If not, we might be able to track him from that location."

With a sigh, Cloud had started to drive, his foot soft on the accelerator after one harsh stomp had proven the vehicle had considerable power in its massive turbine-driven engine, in the direction Squall directed him to go.

And finally, they were lumbering off the road itself, driving towards dread.

As they entered the woods and light began to swiftly fail, Cloud's eyes narrowed as he focused on the ground he was slowly inching his vehicle over even as Squall drummed his fingers on the passenger-side door.

The trees began to thin after long, long stretches of time passed in near to utter darkness. Light spilled around them in thin, shy rivets that eventually widened and strengthened in intensity.

As the vehicle emerged from the woods, pulling alongside of another abandoned car sitting perfectly still and covered in grime, Cloud put the car in park and turned the powerful engine off.

His eyes, wide in horror, couldn't tear themselves away from the scene before him.

A vast lake stretched out before them surrounded by ancient woods, a thick grassy peninsula jutting into its form. Green, sickly light danced upon soiled waves, flickering in a thin stream that sparkled from the distant heavens above and dribbled viscously into the waiting waves in heavy droplets that were widely spaced apart.

Cloud felt a shiver run along his spine – the last time he'd seen a column of green stretching into the depths of space, it had been pouring from his world into the heavens. Apparently, Obel Lake was the recipient of the energy that had been fleeing the Planet.

Swallowing harshly, he stared at the final alien addition to the land, the companion to that putrid green light that stained the otherwise picturesque landscape.

He stood tall and straight, his continence regal in the orange light of the setting sun combined with the green glow of the polluted lake. A soft breeze brushed through a long, black trench coat and soft falls of silver hair. A hideously long sword, its hilt gripped loosely in his left hand, shone in the combined coloration that flowed through the sky.

As he turned, Cloud gripped the sword he'd brought from the vehicle tightly in his hands, sweat already beading on his brow and fusing the white t-shirt he'd worn that day to his shuddering body.

"Cloud," the man upon the peninsula whispered softly, his voice deep and foreboding, his eyes narrowed and cat-slit pupils standing in stark contrast to their emerald irises. "This is most… unexpected."

"It can't be," Cloud whispered, his eyes huge as he stood by Squall's side.

"I take it you've met?" Squall blandly questioned at his side, his gunblade resting over his right shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he glowered at the man on the peninsula.

A slow nod moved Cloud's head. "He's supposed to be dead. I've put him down before."

Laughing boldly, the man turned to face Cloud and Squall with a sneer. "Ah yes. Nibelheim. North Crater. Midgar."

"If he's been defeated by you so often, how is it he's here?" Squall snarled, his glare flickering between both the man who stood before them and his Knight.

Cloud narrowed his eyes with a scowl turning his own lips. "I don't know. This shouldn't be possible. This… Sephiroth… a clone, maybe?"

Swinging his gunblade down from its resting place on his shoulder, Squall growled as he reached into his pockets and pulled free his cell phone. After glaring at it and punching at a few numbers randomly, he tossed it carelessly to the side then dug through his pockets once more. This time he produced bullets, then swung open the hefty revolving chamber of his weapon and began loading it. "Clone or not, he's going down."

Nodding slowly, his actions not at all reflecting what truly raced through his mind, Cloud grit his teeth. "You're right, Squall."

Smirking, the man chuckled. "You doubt my validity, Cloud. It is as I said in Midgar. I will not be reduced to a memory."

Cloud stared with huge eyes, what little confidence he might have felt instantly draining away.

"And so we cross swords again; fate has lead you to me once more," the silver-haired man professed with a condescending smile.

"But," Cloud began with a hesitant whisper, "you're dead. Destroyed. I saw to it myself."

"I think not." A quiet chuckle seeped from the man who stood before Cloud. "When first you faced me Cloud, your mistake of pushing me into the heart of the mako reactor, into the Lifestream itself, made possible my resurrection and induction to godhood. Your repeated errors when you faced with me at the center of the Planet fused me with the very essence of my mother and returned us to the Planet's bloodstream. Our final encounter, when you murdered the remnants of me, reunited all of my matter in the Lifestream where the rest of me was encased."

Cloud stared hard, his lips refusing to move from the frown that dominated his face. "So you're saying this is my fault?"

A chuckle shook the man's shoulders. "Hardly. With the domineering strength of the Lifestream and my mother's weakened condition, we might well have been assimilated completely given the course of Planetary time. But something interfered. When presented with a channel to another world, the Lifestream forced the remains of my mother's material along that tunnel to purge itself of what the Planet sees as Jenova's infestation. And when she was expunged from the Planet, as I am of her and serve her, so was I."

"So you ended up here. Fine. Great. Doesn't explain why you've been doing what you've been doing," Squall growled even as he snapped the revolving chamber of his weapon back into place and finally set his free hand on the base of its hefty hilt.

Lifting his sword to casually point its deadly tip at the young Sorcerer, his smile still slender and uncaring, the silver-haired man shook his head. "You can not be expected to understand."

"Then try me, Sephiroth," Cloud snarled, hefting his sword before himself and shifting his feet in preparation for leaping to either offense or defense the moment the target of his consternation moved.

Shifting his gaze to Cloud, his smile became more twisted. "There is no Lifestream here, which likely lead to this world being overlooked in Jenova's ancient journies. Without a Lifestream to harness, Jenova would have been left powerless. But there is another power that equivocates Jenova's own, a power just as antiquated as she is. And with that power, with a vessel to replace the body she lost long ago that can harness that might, she will come to rule over this world with me at her side, sharing in her divinity."

Scowling, Squall took a bold step forward. "Still. Killing random people you encounter? Burning villages to the ground?"

"Certainly a vessel capable of harnessing that ancient might my mother detected would come to stop me," Sephiroth said with a sneer.

Cloud desired more answers. Further clarification. But it was never to be forthcoming.

At that moment Squall charged, a roar soaring from him as he swung his gunblade with every ounce of his might.

The setting sun's orange glow was overpowered by the brilliant flame that shot along the glowing blue blade of Squall's weapon as he pulled the trigger and the expended round exploded from its chamber, Sephiroth's brilliant sneer dissolving into an intense grimace as he held onto Masamune's hilt with all of his strength. The ringing of the connecting blades slid viscously through the explosive bang of the gunblade's triggering, overpowering any and all sounds that would have filled the swiftly coming dusk and swallowing the land in silence once they died.

Cloud's muscles ached with longing – deep within him burned a need to interrupt, to interject himself in Squall's place, to defend him from his opponent. Yet he couldn't bring his feet to move.

Skirting on the edge of his senses, a blazing desire to put down the murderer and for Cloud not to interfere seared brilliantly into his brain.

Squall didn't want him to come between himself and his target.

Cloud begrudgingly stood by, watching the battle with careful eyes.

He saw a battle that was shockingly balanced.

Sephiroth's incredible speed and strength was matched by agility and the wickedly explosive effects of the gunblade's skillfully timed triggering, the devastating danger posed by Masamune stopped in its tracks by the heavier blade's intrinsic might. For every swipe of a blade there was a responding defensive lift of a weapon, for every fleeting moment of fancy footwork there was a responsive offensive strike.

As the blades connected again, Masamune singing painfully as the horridly sharp vibrations triggered by the explosive burst from an expertly timed strike poured up its overly exaggerated length, the SOLDIER general flung his elbow forward, knocking its sharp point right into his younger opponent's face.

Staggering back, Squall glared at his opponent and leapt back, his momentum carrying him as high into the air as humanly possibly.

Cloud saw Sephiroth sneer. Cloud noticed the bunching of muscles in his legs, the intention to follow his opponent registering clearly.

Flinging himself forward, Cloud's weapon lead him into Sephiroth's path. Their weapons collided in an array of sparks and fire, the sound of metal grinding on metal pouring through Cloud's very bones.

Seconds later, a ring of fire blasted just above Cloud's spiked hair. Nearly taken by surprise, Sephiroth managed tot tumble under the attack and land in a puff of grass and dust back on the peninsula.

Not even allowing enough time for an eye to blink, Cloud felt the desperate desire for him to move out of the way collide with his mind.

Flinging out a hand, he tossed himself to the side even as Masamune reached for his neck, slipping underneath the weapon's sharp edge and instead tumbling through the wet grass.

Even as he tumbled away, his ears rang with the cacophony of Masamune and Lionheart colliding swiftly, each strike a bare breath away from the next.

Then, suddenly, the dusk lit up with the brilliance of day.

Turning on his heel, Cloud gripped his sword tightly. He stared, his eyes huge, as the energy beam being veritably shot from the blazingly bright blue gunblade slammed into the ground, finally eliciting a cry from Sephiroth as he was caught in its blast. The silver-haired General, knocked clean off his feet, flew backwards off the peninsula even as the hot energy blast connected with the waters of the lake itself.

Steam washed the land, the enormous heat of the beam blade instantly evaporating the span of Obel Lake. As Sephiroth's body vanished off the edge of the peninsula and the sloppy sound of him sliding down the muddy slope to collide with the lake's suddenly exposed bottom slipped through the rapidly setting night, Cloud leapt after him.

Even as he slid down the insanely slippery slope that spilled down into the huge wound upon the land that once was Obel Lake, Cloud crouched and held his blade close to his body.

The second he was within range, even as Sephiroth was starting to get to his feet, he unleashed with a devastating slash that the General was incapable of blocking. A second slash followed by a third that nearly put the SOLDIER down immediately burst forth, Cloud's surprise at Cross Slasher's effectiveness with his new weapon singing along his senses.

Rolling back and regaining his footing on the slippery mud, Sephiroth's eyes narrowed coldly, the final rays of the sun finally failing and the moon's rising white light dancing over his pale face. He didn't speak a work as he charged forward, weaving around boulders long buried by Obel Lake's calm surface and the sea-life left stranded and gasping for breath.

Cloud barely got his sword up in time to defend himself from the powerful blow that came for him. With a cry, he staggered back a step.

The second immediate swipe took him completely off his feet and hurled him back into the mud.

Wincing, expecting a third to instantly come for him, Cloud's slippery grip on his weapon nearly failed as he hefted it before him.

The third blow failed to connect – Cloud heard rather than saw the gunblade that interjected itself between him and Sephiroth, the roar of Lionheart burning his ears even as the heat from the explosive triggering heated his face.

Suddenly the moon burned red.

Squall staggered back as Sephiroth's strength overtook his own, pushing the enormous length of Masamune against the gunblade and upsetting the youth's tentative stance in the mud. A breath of time later, Squall slammed solidly into the mud, blood erupting from an expertly delivered slash that raced clear across his chest and into his left arm.

As the young mercenary attempted to heft himself out of the mud and resume defending himself, Cloud rapidly leapt at Sephiroth with his blade leading the way. Still seeing stars from being pummeled against the lake's muddy bottom, he relied on his hearing more than his sight, relishing the sound of blade upon blade that assured him that he was in fact engaging his enemy.

Even as his sight returned completely, he was nearly blinded as orange burst to life above the rim of the lake.

Frightened animalistic roars filled the newly set night's sky even as the sounds of creatures fleeting on wings and feet flowed around the battle arena.

Even as Cloud crossed blades with Sephiroth once more, nearly falling backwards as he stumbled over the limb of some creature sunk into Obel Lake and barely beginning its lengthy decay, the raging light of fire danced around the edges of the pit they were trapped in, highlighting the forms of creatures fleeing the surrounding forests for survival.

Barely catching sight of Squall staggering back to his feet, Cloud grit his teeth and began to push back as mightily as he could, a tiny inkling of disappointment washing through him as his own feet struggled to maintain their grip on the slick muddy ground and Sephiroth stood statuesque before him, the only visible show of his expenditure of effort being the slight furrow of his silver brows above hard green eyes, the smirk on his lips belaying his amusement.

Thick clouds washed over the sky, eliminating the ruby light of the moon and the gentle white of the stars – all that remained to light the bottom of the sopping wet pit Cloud and Sephiroth fought in was the orange flames that lit the world above.

Suddenly, Sephiroth shoved sharply against Cloud's blade, leaping backwards as he did so as to use his opponent as a springboard to give himself additional distance in his evasive move.

Cloud's confusion was immediately alleviated when a malboro fell into the remains of the lake and nearly buried him under its mass.

Slashing with every ounce of might that he could muster, the swipe of his blade so rapid and powerful that it tore through the miniscule sliver of air that existed around it, he plowed a Blade Beam straight through the monstrosity.

He was shocked when it screamed and reeled, then focused on him with all of its miniscule eyes rather than falling over dead.

Sephiroth immediately returned to the battle, his blade singing as it slammed into Cloud's hastily upraised weapon.

The malboro screamed from before Cloud as it lurched backwards then turned.

Barely catching a glimpse of the young Sorcerer behind the monstrosity, his gunblade dripping with the odd green slime that made up the creature's blood, Cloud projected his thanks for the cover along their bond rather than focusing any further attention on him. Cloud had more important things to worry about.

Barely twisting his blade in time to catch Masamune once again, Cloud snarled liquidly. A barest catch of motion from the corner of his eye enticed him to roll to his side even as Sephiroth once again dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding the malboro as it lurched backwards.

The explosive bangs of a machine gun's rapid fire sang in the night. The malboro fell dead.

Cloud barely had time to defend himself from the oncoming onslaught even as Squall fended off a wendigo that had rolled into the lake's empty pit even as the immense black shape of the Ragnorok flew through the pitch-black sky.

Even as Squall fought his way through the small conglomeration of monsters that had slid through the mud to their doom, the roaring of dragons echoed through the night.

Cloud shuddered as recognition overtook him – the roar matched that which he'd heard on his Planet the day he'd been swept to his new reality. It sounded exactly like a Dark Dragon.

Moments later, a glance granted validity to his suspicions – a dark dragon was in fact barreling down the steep slope that lead up to the peninsula's grassy top, its jaws open and its fangs glistening in the brilliant orange light of flames.

Sephiroth used Cloud's distraction to thrust with his mighty blade, nearly disarming the blond with a skillful twist of Masamune and setting Cloud completely off his balance. With a quick reversal of the blade's momentum, he sent its flat right into Cloud's shins, knocking him into the mud once more.

Even as Cloud rolled to avoid the strike he was certain was coming, his opponent leapt away.

"Squall!" he yelled into the night.

The younger man turned sharply, barely managing to get his gunblade up in time to fend off Masamune's strike, sparks and fire bursting from both blades as they noisily collided. Squall screamed as the dark dragon's murderous dark breath roared over him moments later, Sephiroth swiftly having sidestepped the oncoming onslaught.

Hurling himself back at Sephiroth, rage burning acid and green in his blood and vision, Cloud roared and slammed his weapon against his opponent's with every ounce of might he had.

Gunfire lit the night again, this time single bursts that came as rapidly as a finger pulling a weapon's trigger could deliver them.

The dark dragon screamed as if fell, its skull riddled with holes.

Resisting the urge to shoulder his weapon, Irvine instead turned and fired into the woods, targeting as many enemies as he could see – everything from wendigos to grendles to blue dragons and T-Rexaurs to the odd dragons he didn't recognized, the blue-tinted tonberries and the skeletal draconic beasts that howled for blood.

Every creature, tinted with the poisonous green that had simmered in Obel Lake's polluted waters, screamed and roared in battle-driven fury as they burst from the flaming woods to collide with the small party that had landed on the peninsula, having leapt from the low-flying airship that had strafed the area earlier.

As Cloud and Sephiroth continued to collide, every stroke of a sword matched perfectly by a defensive block, Squall fought his way through every monster that either slid from the peninsula's top in a desperate attempt to flee the SeeDs who'd arrived or were simply pushed form their solid and dry battlefield above.

Upon the peninsula, lit by the intense fire that roared through the woods, the four SeeDs who'd arrived fought desperately against overwhelming odds.

A veritable herd of T-Rexaurs burst from the forest, a blue dragon right behind them and a pair of master tonberries leading the charge. Quistis and Selphie, hip to hip with Zell just a few feet away, began to summon.

The blonde instructor was taken by surprise when the fierce stab of a knife from the blue-tinted tonberry that reached her took her Guardian Force down to nothing in one attack, Leviathan curling up in the base of her brain and refusing to move as he nursed his wounds. So distracted was she that she failed to react beyond letting a cry of shock echo from her lips as a T-Rexaur's tail slammed into her.

Selphie had considerably greater luck – Doomtrain, swift to answer her call, barreled without mercy through the conglomeration of attackers that lined the barren lands outside of the hellishly flaming woods. Not allowing herself the moment to celebrate, she swiftly turned, her flail flying with deadly accuracy as she smacked the T-Rexaur that had attacked Quistis solidly upon its snout right before drawing a _Quake_ from it and instantly casting it right back.

Quistis barely had time to regain her footing and dash out of the way as the spell went off, nearly collapsing as the ground roiled under her. A quick flinging of her arm hurled the end of her deadly chain whip right into the abdomen of the blue-tinted tonberry that had buried Leviathan.

As Quistis stumbled away from the T-Rexaur that reeled under the might of Selphie's instantaneously stripped and cast _Quake_, Zell charged into the fray, his agility and nimble steps able to keep him on his feet even as he entered the spell's area of effect. With a growl, he engaged the oversized predator, his fists slamming into it with bone-breaking punches that demolished its hard scaly skin.

Squall had nearly made it to the top of the peninsula, his desire to help his friends overriding his desire to cross blades with the silver-haired man that faced off with Cloud in the depths of Obel Lake, when a stream of thrustevaris burst from the woods. One swept and cleanly struck his shoulder as he attempted to gain a semblance of footing to avoid the attack, upsetting his balance and sending him sliding to the bottom of the mucky pit once more.

Just as he reached the bottom of the pit, a rumble shook the entire area.

Quistis screeched as she was sent to her knees by the violent shaking, her whip skillfully taking one of the blue master tonberries' head before the other cast its deadly karmic magic upon her and nearly stripped her of her life before she hit the ground. Before the second could take another step forward, it was waylaid both by fist and flail, its chest collapsing under the barrage.

As Selphie caught her flail, she screamed – a blue dragon had swiftly flown to her, its deadly claws grabbing her and its curled talons digging into her flesh. It fell moments later, bullets punching holes throughout its entire frame.

Instantly at Selphie's side, Irvine pulled her to her feet and held her tenderly, aiming his dreadfully heavy and enormous gun with his off-hand and skillfully firing, a grimace his singular display of consternation in response to absorbing the incredible recoil of Exeter with only one arm.

Even as the huge quake that rocked the area hit its peak, sending combatant and monster alike to their knees, a huge spike of solid earth erupted beneath Squall. With a shout, he managed to swipe at it with his gunblade before he could be gored by the earthen spear and held onto it for dear life as it thrust its way into the sky.

Quistis was doubled over, panting in exhaustion. Thrustevaris flew from the woods, their numbers few but their green-tinged bodies frothed with madness and rabid rage. Managing to straighten herself for a moment, she struck with her whip. The thrustevaris closest to her spiraled out of control, dead before it slammed into the ground even as she toppled back to her knees, incapable of keeping her feet despite the odds she faced.

Even as a T-Rexaur and a grendal charged towards her, their maws open and fangs sharp and slimy in the fierce orange glow of the forest fire that raged around them, she could barely bring herself to lift her head and watch as her doom approached.

In a blur of blond hair and precise motion, Zell leapt to her defense, his deadly fists flying with unerring precision to waylay everything that approached her. He barely staggered as he was enveloped in the lightning breath of the grendal and simultaneously beaen by the wild swing of the T-Rexaur's tail; with a snarl that shone white and red in the glowing light, blood pouring from now splitl ips and his teeth ground together in a manic adrenaline-driven grin, he sprang towards their attackers with a lengthy and devastating Duel.

Selphie held onto Irvine's coat to keep herself upright, holding her abdomen with her free arm, blood streaming down her yellow jumper and over the hilt of her Strange Vision flail. With a determined snarl she gripped her flail in both hands, taking one step away from Irvine's protective grasp even as she pushed the heavy weapon heavenwards – _Full Cure_ roared over her and the other SeeDs, healing the damage they had attained in the barest of seconds.

Instantly back on her feet, Quistis found the time to reach into her deep reserves of status magic, throwing _Blind_ onto everything within her vicinity, casting _Aura_ on Zell and Irvine and quickly _Silencing _a blue dragon.

Her quick magical attack was brought to an end when a dark dragon leapt to her and downed her with one massive forepaw's swipe. She cried out as she fell back, her head bouncing off the hard ground before she rolled and attempted to escape.

The dragon found itself backpedaling rapidly, shock evident in its roar as it was pulled physically away from its chosen target by its tail, Zell hauling it back with every ounce of his impressive strength. Just as he was balling his fist to slam it into the beast he'd roped into combat using its own appendage, its head exploded in a visceral mess, decimated by a swiftly fired shot of pulse ammunition.

Irvine's auburn hair, stained ruby by blood that had previously tainted it from a scalp wound delivered during the fierce battle raging on the peninsula of Obel Lake, swiftly fired into the flame-obscured night. A plethora of monstrous screams and roars of pain lit the night as he burned through his hefty ammunition supply, the only lull in the explosive expulsions of Exeter being the bare scrap of seconds he used to reload his massive gun.

As the battles raged above, Cloud and Sephiroth continued unnoticed and uncaring, blades slamming into one another with unmatched strength and ferocity.

Suddenly a flare of white burned in the night, a brilliant star shining with the intensity of the sun in the black, cloud-coated night.

Cloud and Sephiroth came to a halt, weapons locked, both staring at the heavens. Sephiroth wore a confident smirk upon his lips even as Cloud's sea-colored mako eyes stared in confusion.

Shoving Cloud away, Sephiroth stood straight and unperturbed, staring up at the light that seemed to descend towards them through the black of the night.

Cloud took the opportunity to gasp for long-denied breath, his body finally registering its exhaustion as he stood, muscles aching and shaking under his sodden clothing, barely capable of holding his sword. Its tip resting in the mud of the bottom of the lake, he stared tiredly up to the top of the spire, barely capable of making out Squall's diminutive form atop of it.

Suddenly, Sephiroth crouched in the corner of Cloud's vision. Turning his attention, he swiftly charged, his sword instantly raised and his inflamed senses burning with acrid green touching his vision. Their swords collided even as the ground shook hard once more, Sephiroth's attempt to leap towards the Sorcerer atop the spire cleanly interrupted.

Two spires erupted from the pit, the first upon which Squall stood crumbling and falling to dust. Even as the spire collapsed, Squall repeated his trick with the newest deadly spear of earth – swinging his gunblade with frightening strength and accuracy, he sliced the top of the nearest pillar away and landed hard upon it in a blast of dust. Turning sharply, he stared.

An _Ultima_ was bursting from the heavens, forming over the peninsula the SeeDs battled the enormous influx of monsters upon.

Swinging a hand forward, eyes flashing to gold, Squall snarled. Light burst from his palm.

A hemispheric dome of blue-tinted _Shell_ sprang into life even as _Ultima_ decimated the land above Obel Lake's black bottom.

The remains of the forest blasted into the air accompanied by blood and smoke and dust, pieces of monster flying in every direction.

The other spire that had erupted from the pit finally lost its top as well, the tip disintegrating into nothing.

The white light descended to the empty spire's top before the light died completely.

White wings curled around a delicate feminine frame, dark brunette hair fluttering in the gentle breeze that floats from the forest's fiery interior, brown eyes narrowing in rage carried by a face touched by sadness, the slight figure held a hand aloft, fingertips glowing with gentle white light.

As Cloud and Sephiroth crossed swords once more, the SOLDIER general sneered and allowed a brief chuckle to escape him, his smile in direct contrast to Cloud's own scowl and straining. "Behold, Cloud. The end of you and the one you seek to protect has arrived. Jenova's power will be mended. Her divinity will be restored, and so shall mine be completed."

Cloud couldn't manage a retort, pushing as hard as he could against Sephiroth's blade, his feet slipping in the muck and mire they fought in even as the silver-haired man stood statue still and smiled, his arms barely moved by Cloud's Herculean efforts.

Green eyes narrowing, his face calm with satisfaction, Sephiroth breathed, "This night will be your last. The sun will set forever on this world's future."

_-to be continued-_

Snowflake: Thanks for the review! :D What about Tifa, you ask? Well… this chapter should've taken care of it from Cloud's perspective. In Tifa's life? Well, assume whatever you like. XD I like to ship Refa, so I imagine a redhead hanging around a bar even more frequently. Hahahaha.


	12. The Final Embrace

Sorry it took so long to get this out! I just ended up horribly busy with work and other projects, so my writing kind of had to take a back seat. However, I've already got Chapter 13 of this story nearly complete! It won't take long at all for it to appear, provided my ship's schedule doesn't change. :) So for now, expect it after the 2nd week of May!

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha. For review replies that couldn't be made via PMs, please see the bottom of the page. Enjoy!

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 12

_Well, I finally have my journal. And apparently everything else I am to own from this point forward._

_A duffle bag with three changes of clothes and some toiletries in it, my gunblade, the clothes on my back and my wallet stuffed with gil notes. A matching duffle bag for Cloud. And Cloud's company._

_I know why it happened. I can understand the logic. It just sucks._

_After all, how can a Sorcerer lead the organization whose very existence is derived by the tasking of putting him down? Of keeping him from rampaging and destroying civilization as we know it?_

_Sure, the rest of the world sees a mercenary organization at their beck and call provided they've got the gil to hire said organization's services, but having until recently been a member of said organization… well…_

_It doesn't help diminish the ache in my heart, though. To know that I've officially been ousted. Ostracized. Kicked out._

_As much as I loathed being Commander, having responsibility shoved onto my shoulders without me even getting a word in edgewise to denounce the tomfoolery of the entire idea, I never thought it would hurt so much to have that responsibility stripped away. It's like a personal affront. Even though I know it's nothing of the sort, it still stings the same._

_I hated having that title shoved onto me, true. I despised that during the heat of the moment our leader pressed all of his duties onto me, saddling me with the lives of everyone I'd been raised with, every friend I'd made, ever associate I'd conversed with. But I'd grown to fill that role. While it wasn't something I took immense pleasure in, it was something that I accepted._

_It was a role I used to define myself. 'Commander of Balamb Garden SeeD' was something I used to give myself purpose. Maybe a bit of a title. It really boosted my self-confidence on the days when I felt about as tall as dirt to remind myself that I, in fact, was the leader of the most deadly force of mercenaries on the face of the planet. That I headed the men and women that saved our entire world from utter obliteration._

_Now it's all gone. Because of… _

_I hesitate to call it fate._

_Because I killed her. I let her die, and I assimilated her powers._

_But… gone. Done. Everything my life once stood for is over with. Brought to an early termination._

_I was a SeeD. I was their Commander. I was Rinoa's fiancé. I was the Sorceress' Knight._

_Now I am nothing, homeless and jobless, with a dead fiancé and no Sorceress to defend. I'm just a listless drifter without purpose, another nameless face in a crowd of nothing, a statistic and an unimportant blot on a landscape blemished by humanity._

_Something a little more than that, I guess. I am, after all, a Sorcerer. 'The' Sorcerer. So not only am I a drifting jobless piece of reprobate, I'm also the biggest threat the world has at this moment. Whatever. _

_I have nothing to define myself anymore – I'm not experienced with this entire new turn of events to use it as a defining factor. I don't want to experience enough of this new power to define myself. I just want a normal life. Maybe find a job, a home. Someone to call my own._

_Maybe I've already got that last one. After all, I have a Knight at my side. What an odd Knight, though._

_To think, of anyone who would decide to come to my aid and somehow manage to tie themselves to my fate as a Knight, it would be a person who's completely oblivious to the lore of Knighthood. Someone completely alien to this world in its entirety, who has no knowledge of Sorcery, of the workings of the world, of our histories and our cultures. _

_Seifer would make fun of me if he were here. He'd somehow say this was my choice and that I'd managed to botch it big-time._

_I don't feel it was a botch, though. I feel… alright, so it's cliché to say it was fate, but that's what I believe._

_After all, this entire situation came about because of Rinoa's death. Because of the one who drove his sword through me to strike her down._

_And Cloud has faced with this man before. That much I've seen, and that much he's told me._

_What I've seen in Cloud's mind, his memories vivid even though they seem to lie behind a fogged screen that keeps him from being able to recall them with clarity, his encounters with the monster who carries the ridiculously long and thin blade have been monumental clashes driven by hate and passion ignited by memories long buried and never brought to proper recollection._

_His memories of the beast I am targeting, buried secrets of hero worship and joy of being recognized by the one he admired above all, disillusion bolstered by craze and mania and blood and fallen friends, are more than enough to let me know that he will be at my side, unwavering and resolute, when I find the one who drove his blade into Rinoa once again._

_It's odd. To look into Cloud's memories, to see a world that is entirely not my own. To see different fates, different crises, different races and different cultures. To see a city that would stand easily alongside of Esthar in technological achievements surrounded by townships that make Winhill look enormous and industrialized. To witness, with his limited understanding making difficult the complete comprehension of exactly what I was seeing, the movement of his world to harness some sort of energy incumbent to the planet itself idealized in some mundane idea of 'planetary life force' (as if a rock has life) in an effort to attain self sufficiency._

_I guess it's not less odd than it is for him, being thrust into our world so awkwardly. To arrive in a place with no friends, no belongings and no clue as to what was going on. Especially in the midst of our own crisis._

_In fact, given his circumstances, I think he's taking things rather well._

_We spoke this evening. I… kind of liked it._

_Yeah, I could just look though his mind and garner everything I've ever wanted to know about him. In fact, I already have concerning some details. But it was much more… genuine to allow him to come forth with information himself. Actually engaging in a dialogue was… odd, but kind of nice._

_I wonder if that's why Rinoa always hounded me to talk to her more often. I always suspected that she could just read everything she desired without my knowledge, as I seem to be capable of doing with Cloud (he hasn't once noticed me digging through his mind – or if he has, he's very accepting and blasé about it, which given his impressively colorful past, I doubt). But… she…._

_I guess she respected my privacy more than I suspected. Or she was really, really good at keeping the fact that she knew more than she was letting on secret._

_I'm guessing it was the former, given the fact that she was always pestering me to tell me what was on my mind and what I was feeling._

_It's… odd. I can't really ignore the sensations I receive from Cloud. His mild worry. His confusion. His underlying desire to help. His… attraction?_

_Pfft. Obviously I'm reading something wrong. And I just wrote 'pfft' in my journal. Shows why I'm continuing this exercise in frivolity. Definitely need to clear the mind if I'm writing such inane crap. My pen's meandering almost as badly as my brain right now._

_Trying to focus. We spoke. He told me more of his past, or what he says he can remember. About how he was a childhood bully, about his dreams and aspirations, about his current life._

_He told me about the girl he's got back at home. And when he spoke about her, the longing and sorrow in his voice was palatable._

_What's funny is that his drive and motivation doesn't seem to be to return to this 'Seventh Heaven' and to her side. It's to defend me. Weird._

_I asked him if he was in love with this girl. He'd simply blushed a touch before nodding, almost hesitantly. Like he wasn't certain. Or he was trying to convince himself. Or he had something else on his mind. I didn't pry._

_In fact, I've decided to make it my prerogative not to dig into his mind or into his heart._

_I can show him the same respect that Rinoa showed me._

_I think he'd appreciate that._

_And seeing as how he's all I've got left in the world right now, I don't have any desire to drive him to disparity._

_How was it for you, Rinoa? Having me as your Knight? Knowing all that I felt, that I thought? How I was exasperated with you at times, and thought of many of your wants and needs and actions as frivolous crap that I simply didn't have time for, but would do just to appease you?_

_And… how strange is it that now I realize how often I was appeasing her? Normally I wouldn't bother appeasing another, and simply go about my business. But she… she was different._

_Was it because I loved her? Or because I was her Knight?_

_If it's because I was her Knight, then was she desiring that I appease her? Could Cloud be assisting me because I desire him to assist me? Because I've seen his past and know he has a chance of successfully putting down the man who struck Rinoa down?_

_Bah. I have no time to bother with pondering this right now. I'll write dissertations about it later. Once we've found my target. Once we've either killed him, or died trying (though obviously with that conclusive ending, I won't be writing anything more, will I?)._

_Though… I really don't want to die._

_Is it odd? That I don't want to die?_

_Because if I would've been asked just a couple of weeks ago, I would've wanted the end to come as quickly as possible. Or at least to have the opportunity to strike against the one who put Rinoa down before my death._

_But… if I were to die… what would Cloud do? What condition would I leave him in?_

_He's not even a citizen of any nation on this planet. He has no identification, no means to garner a job, to recognition of what constitutes a cultural faux pas. In truth, I'm his only connection to comfortable living that exists, and even that is marginal at best. I do have a considerable amount of gil on me from liquidating my accounts, but even that is finite and destined to run dry._

_If we live, he'll need me to assist him. If not in the task of living in our world, at least in the effort to establish himself as a bona fide citizen. Or…_

_Or maybe this power of mine, this magic inherited from Rinoa, will be able to send him home._

_I wonder if I should send him home now._

_I want to… part of me really wants to. It's not fair to keep him here, to harness him to my task, to risk his life for my revenge. But I don't think he'd go for being cast aside. Not given what I've felt – his heart-felt desire to assist me in my task, his stubborn determination to remain at my side and ensure that I'm alright, would likely earn me consternation for attempting to return him home before this particular battle is through._

_I'll simply have to defend him. We can decide what's to be done after we encounter my target._

_And if I die facing with my target, he can task whoever receives this power with the job of sending him home._

_I don't want him killed._

_He's already lost enough in being drawn here by my mistakes. He's already lost his home, his friends, his beloved. He's lost everything that he could have used to define himself. And while his current mindset isn't troubled over such and in fact seems to relish the fact that he has a definite purpose and a means to produce an image of himself that isn't hinged on his spotted past but rather the blank slate of the future and the newly laid ink of today, it's simply human nature to assume that he'll come to reflect on the past and wish for it back. I can't ask him to sacrifice more than he already has in assisting me in my task – so I won't ask him to sacrifice his life._

_I have other means of seeing this task completed. I have other recourses._

_I'll get him a sword, somehow. Perhaps some magic stones. But I'm not going to force him to be my foundation – I'm not going to allow myself to rely on him._

_I will have my gunblade. I will have this power that now slithers under my skin. And I will have my friends._

_I know Selphie is going to be tracking me. It's her prerogative. Not only would she do it as part of her job as a SeeD, keeping tabs on the world's biggest risk as to maintain a pinpoint on my location should I lose my mind and decide to compress time or something, but she'd also do it in some weird, twisted notion of friendship. She'd want to know my location at all times so she could immediate come to my aid should I need her help._

_Well, I intend to use that. She's going to get a phone call once we find my target. And she can trace it. She will, once she hears nothing but silence coming from my cell phone._

_And if Selphie's coming, she'll be bringing Irvine. And likely Zell. As much as I don't want him involved given his injuries, the stubborn fool's not likely to miss this opportunity to help me out one last time._

_With at least three of my friends there, Cloud should be well covered. And with me taking point in this fight regardless of what Cloud might desire, he'll come through._

_Heck, maybe if I die during this fight, my friends will take him in. I know Zell's reasonable. And Irvine's of the opinion that Cloud's not a bad guy – with his Galbadian-bred hospitality, he'll see to it that Cloud's well set for commencing a new life on our world if he can not make it back home._

_Still, even though I plan for the inevitable, I really don't want to die._

_I'd like to see what life could be like._

_So far, this one day off of Garden has been interesting, emotionally speaking._

_I've been riding the trough of the wave, barely holding my head above the crushing waters of despair and dissolution thanks to my removal from Garden. From the only home I've ever truly known. But at the same time, I've been experiencing a small resurgence of hope – an inkling of want and need and drive to do something other than simply face off with the man whose blade pierced Rinoa's body and die._

_Maybe if I try, I can find purpose with my new Knight. I can craft a life for us both. And even if that life involves sending him back home, I can live what few days I have before madness takes me and I give in to the whims of the moon with that sliver of satisfaction that I helped the one who helped me avenge her._

* * *

><p>Every eye stared at the top of the second spire, squinting as it tried to peer through the radiant light that poured from the slim figure under the dark blanket of the night's clouds.<p>

The vision itself didn't bring any fear to Cloud's heart. Indeed, the figure above was hardly what he'd consider formidable.

It was a young woman, her features thin and soft and delicate, her heart-shaped face lovely and gentle with full pink lips and oval brown doe eyes. Her budding feminine frame was encased in skin-tight black shorts and a matching tank top, over which clung a blue denim short skirt and a billowing blue draping fabric top held shut by a single clasp before her bosom. A slender silver chain sliding around her neck glistened in the light that filled the night, a pair of rings upon the skinny metal line sparkling like miniature stars upon her pale skin.

The huge white wings, looking as soft as those carried by a swan and just as brilliant and pure, gave an angelic aura to the girl rather than any inkling that she was to be feared – the glow they carried that lit the night was something clean and enticing.

Still, Cloud's heart trembled. As he looked at the girl, green filled his vision and acrid burning simmered in his blood.

Every last shred of taint that still boiled in his body was responding to its originator, every nerve ending that was touched in the experiments that fused him with her cellular matter screaming as the source of their creation drew near.

Even though she hardly appeared as she did years ago, when Sephiroth had torn away the metallic barricade that had shadowed her and ripped her head free of the remains of her incarcerated body, Cloud's body recognized Jenova.

He'd felt uninvited fright flood his being when he'd seen Sephiroth standing upon Obel Lake's shore, when the realization that it was no clone he'd be battling settled itself firmly upon him. The very notion of crossing swords again with the monstrous beast he'd faced in Niebelhiem, the man who'd so nearly killed Tifa and Zack, who had murdered Tifa's father and burned his village to the ground, who'd been responsible for his own mother's death, terrified him. The thought of crossing swords again with the man he'd faced in the Planet's Core in his personal battle to cleanse himself of the touch of his dark command over his very soul rattled him. The thought of crossing swords again with the man he'd faced in Midgar, when he'd watched the desperation of a youth desiring only completion and fulfillment draw Jenova's dark son from the Planet's depths, the SOLDIER General so overtaking the youth who'd been nothing more than a puppet as even Cloud had been a bare year earlier, when he'd watched the chosen son of Jenova lead the boy to his ultimate death, nauseated him.

But now he realized he was setting his eyes on something far worse.

He was facing off with not just the one who had been so infused with Jenova's cells that he thought himself a son of her creation – he was facing off with Jenova herself.

And the palatable agony that rang in the back of his mind, the hesitation and the wavering of resolve, made Cloud's heart quiver in deeper terror than the simple realization of what he was facing ever could create on its own.

He was feeling Squall's tremulous ability to face with their opponent fade.

Gulping down his emotions, terror welding itself to rage in the split second it took to realize where that tremor of inability to face with the vessel of Jenova had come from, Cloud let himself calmly assess the situation.

Jenova had been reduced to not more than a few residual cells floating in the Lifestream upon his Planet.

Jenova had been expelled from the Lifestream when the channel between their worlds had appeared.

Jenova had been infused in a new vessel upon this world.

A vessel that, as Sephiroth had stated, could wield a power just as antiquated and mighty as Jenova herself.

The power of the moon, the very might that had buried the enormous monstrosity that had murdered with a brush of angel feathers and laid waste with the winds driven by simply beating its wings to stay aloft, was what Jenova was after.

Cloud's head swam as he was instantly aware of the dire nature of their situation.

Upon his world, Jenova was a destroyer – she was an alien creature who traveled from planet to planet to consume their Lifestreams, infusing herself with enough power to harness a bit of the dead block of her freshly killed world and use it to carry herself through space until she reached her next destination. She was that which would have, given enough time and power, drank their world clean of life. Those who'd harnessed her cells had created the most wickedly powerful men ever known to humanity, the power and realization of their monstrous origins driving them mad.

This world, with its lack of palatable Lifestream with its resultant materia, had its own power and dangers – the power of the moon deity whose hatred congealed in the form of monsters and whose tears swept those beasts through space to deposit them upon the planet below. An eternal struggle between planet and moon, moon to destroy and planet to survive, a balance held for eons time. Power granted to humanity to be used against humanity, to unite humanity in crisis against a common adversary, to balance humanity's might and wry genius with a single being mighty enough to demolish them all.

The destroyer of worlds sought the power of the moon, that power which balanced the planet perfectly and held it in an eternal state of strife and life maintained by the threat of annihilation.

And Jenova had found her vessel, one of the few people on the planet's face who could actually channel the murderously vengeful moon's might.

She simply needed to complete the power, and she would be restored.

The damage caused by her crash landing into Cloud's worlds millennia ago, by the destruction waged on her by Cloud and his companions, would be remedied with one simple task – releasing and reclaiming the power the girl who'd possessed the body before had shucked.

He had only a few moments to stare before the girl lifted a hand, her fingertips aflame with orange energy that seeped through her. A bare second passed before a sun-heated _Flare_ burst into reality.

Only the barest millisecond passed before gunmetal wings burst into being, a hastily raised hand lifting a blue-tinted _Shell_ of unmatched strength to scatter the horribly powerful _Flare_. Rivets of flame poured around the shield, deflected from their original target.

Arrows of fire flew wildly though the air, some careening into the sky above to singe wispy clouds, some sailing into the _Ultima_ battered woods to set the remains of the forest aflame one more. Some skewed down towards the ground, their heavenward path cleanly interrupted.

Cloud managed to dive away from the gridlock he had with Sephiroth, narrowly avoiding a spear of fire that raced towards him even as his silver-haired opponent did the same. The ground they'd occupied split and hissed, fire burning the mud.

Dashing wildly, tumbling and diving with impressive skill, Cloud work desperately to avoid the hail of fire that streamed from above. The bottom of Obel Lake simmered, the wet mud flashed dry in the incredible heat then splitting open to boil and burst. Small fires lit themselves around Cloud and Sephiroth as the corpses of fallen monsters and water-deprived lake-life burst into flames, their blazing flesh torches that lit their rapidly changing battlefield.

A quick dance around another column of steam that erupted from split ground, and Cloud instinctively lurched to his left.

Masamune slid through his white t-shirt, scraping the skin underneath and drawing a line of red blood from his pale flesh.

Snarling, Cloud slashed Caldbolg forward, his stance awkward and unstable but his fury driving him with unmatched strength against his foe. The swords clanged loudly as they collided, boots backpedaling a step even as Cloud's shoes pushed into the dried and cracked ground.

The pair above the swordsmen drew Cloud's attention for a moment.

Identical spells flew, two enormous beams of red-tainted purple energy springing to life from each combatant. As the spells collided solidly with one another, the resounding explosion rocked the land and blasting the clouds out of the heavens. The brilliant flash of light the explosion created lit the land with the brilliance of day, shadows flying wildly across singed grass and flash-dried mud. For a bare second the land stood in peace as the concussive bang of the spells pummeling themselves against one another faded and the bright light sheen that lit the land began to fade, lending strength to the newly exposed stars' twinkling in the heavens above.

Then the monsters that had escaped the decimation of the woods redoubled their efforts, fire and dark energy and lightning dancing over the peninsula above Cloud and his opponent and being answered with flail and whip and fist carrying magic of their own.

The huge moon above the planet, its white surface being swiftly overrun with red, looked upon the world with a slowly swirling and eerie blue iris that congealed in its ovular surface.

The light of the moon intensified, bathing the land below it and all who battled upon it in blood. Its harsh ruby glower overpowered the faint glimmer of starlight, chasing its accompaniment into hiding in the black curtain of night, its intensification correlating with the strength of the magic being called from the dark deity that purportedly resided within its construct.

The darkness of night crashed into being once more moments before another spell flew, the small girl throwing her hands forward with a smile turning soft lips even as the most powerful lightning Cloud had ever seen, its power and sheen putting the most mastered expulsion of a Bolt 3 materia to shame, leapt from her fingertips. It was instantly answered with yet another _Shell_ to scatter it, then rebuked with a column of sharp ice shards flung errantly in her direction.

The ice shards, each the length of a man's height and sharper than any manmade weapon, were scattered by a swiftly cast _Flare_ that pulverized them. Tiny rivets of fire accompanied shattered icicle shrapnel to litter the ground, the hissing and clattering an odd orchestral music to balance the roars and screams and metallic clangs of battle.

Cloud's skin burned as tiny embers hotter than any he'd ever been touched with before lightly brushed his bodyand as miniscule slivers of ice punched into his flesh. He couldn't let it slow him, though – Sephiroth's pressed attack, still mired with the impressive strength he'd unleashed with at the commencement of their spar, refused to relent.

Emerald irises were also focused on the combatants above.

Cloud shuddered as he watched his opponent assess the situation between the Sorcerer and Jenova, preparing himself to alter his fighting tactics from self defense to offensive in order to interject himself between the silver-haired General and Squall if necessary.

As he swung his huge and massive weapon, Sephiroth easily deflecting the blow that raced for his head with a casual smirk and only the slightest tightening of his grin reflecting any exertion, a cry rang through the night from above.

Twisting their weapons to lock them, both Sephiroth and Cloud turned their eyes towards the tops of the spires that leapt from the lake's bottom.

Her wings folded, the girl who housed Jenova shuddered as the remains of a fiery spell licked over her pure white feathers. Across from her, his hand faltering as it was held towards her, the mystic glow of his recently cast spell fading away, Squall let his rigid stance falter as sorrow flickered across his face and his bond with his Knight.

That sorrow was quickly transmuted into panic as white wings suddenly spread and flapped.

The girl's body was swiftly taken airborne by powerful downward strokes, massive soft white wings pounding against the still night air to give her lift. Her left arm thrust forward, the impressive bracer that hugged her forearm with its intricately designed pinwheel was finally brought forth to be fully displayed.

Her right hand slapped itself onto the trigger built into that bracer.

Squall barely had time to step back and heft himself out of the way of the projected weapon.

All eight white metal angels' wings, their edges razor sharp and strong, made the air sing as they spun towards their target. The circular projectile barely missed its target, ringing sharply as it collided with the hard earth the spire he stood upon was crafted of.

Cloud's moment of relief that his Sorcerer had dodged the oncoming physical attack was brought to an end before it could fully manifest.

As if she had expected Squall to avoid her attack, Jenova had instantly altered her tactic – her hands were flung forward, her fingers spread, a white glow sparkling upon her manicured fingernails.

A _Tornado_ rocketed into being, forming on the pinwheel itself and ripping the atmosphere asunder even as it demolished the spire the metal ring of angel wings was caught on.

There was no opportunity for Squall to dodge the spell in time, nor for him to raise any magical defense.

Silver feathers flew through the night, ripped clean from splayed wings by murderously fast winds. The bloodied light of the moon danced with the pure white glow of Jenova's stolen body's wings along gunmetal surfaces, twinkling like the hidden stars as those battered feathers spun through the air.

Cloud's worry crested into sheer terror as Sephiroth came at him, the ferocity of his attack focused to push him aside rather than to kill him, his objected changed from decimating Cloud to intercepting the Sorcerer who'd been shoved from his post by the murderously powerful winds of Jenova's spell. Cloud's feet rapidly backpedaled on the uncertain surface below them until he finally slipped on something hard and slippery that smelled like seared fish – the carcass of a dead trout squished under his shoe as he fell backwards, his back slamming onto the ground and his breath forced from his lungs.

Sephiroth leapt right over him, the green simmer of Jenova's taint folding itself over him even as the singular black wing granted to him by antiquated experimentation sprang into reality and flapped once.

Cloud rolled onto his stomach and threw the remains of the fish he'd stepped on with surprising accuracy.

As it collided solidly with Sephiroth's head and temporarily diverted his attention, Cloud managed to get one foot underneath his body and launched himself back at Jenova's protector.

This time, Caladbolg finally struck.

Black feathers joined the dance of stray filaments in the night air, accompanied by wildly flung droplets of ruby red blood and flickers of simmering poisonous green energy.

As he collided with the ground, his lack of grace amazingly short-lived, Sephiroth rolled handily back to his feet and turned, Masamune swinging before Cloud could revert to defence and lift his heavy sword into the elongated katana's path.

Cloud fell back, his ankle turning as he attempted to stumble back out of Masamune's range and failed.

He laid for a second on the ground, gasping wildly for breath into lungs help captive behind wounded, aching ribs that lay under newly sliced flesh. He felt the heat of his own blood running in rivets over his body, seeping not only from the earlier strike that sliced his side but now from the impressive line cut across his chest.

The Knight barely managed to regain his cognizance of reality in time to roll out of the way of the stabbing sword that raced for his heart.

Cloud tumbled across the uneven ground, rocks digging into his flesh as he tried desperately to gain a semblance of distance between himself and his opponent and get back to his feet. Sephiroth, however, was determined to make that task impossible.

Suddenly Sephiroth's voice touched Cloud's ears, a shout of surprise muffled by a blockade.

Staggering to his feet, Cloud stared at the huge earthen wall that had erupted into being between them. His first instinct was to look to his Sorcerer.

The bond between them was lacking in focus towards Cloud, instead being driven entirely towards self-defense and the curious operation of wings. Indeed, as mako-lit eyes peered into the heavens they managed a glimpse of silver and white high above, the tattered gunmetal torn by wind and magic beating heavily and poignantly to keep the Sorcerer aloft and evenly faced with the alien monster in the Sorceress body, white flapping almost effortlessly to bear their slender load. The two flew rapidly and chaotically, their flight much like that of dueling birds of prey attempting to drive one another from the sky as they attempted to line the other into the range and area of effect of a planned spell.

Cloud's attention was taken from the dueling angels in the sky as the sound of Masamune slicing into the earthen wall that segregated them met his ears.

"Way to waste a wall, Cloudster!" Selphie shouted from the top of the peninsula she and the other SeeDs still occupied, her Strange Vision flail being waved above her head in mock rage.

He would have liked to have responded to her. However, the moment he dared to open his mouth was the very moment the wall before him crumbled and he was once again lifting Caladbolg in a desperate vie for his life.

The moon's bloodied light intensified even as Cloud managed to lock hilts with Sephiroth once more, the two of them snarling in one another's faces, Sephiroth pushing Cloud down with his superior height and strength and Cloud trying his damnedest not to let his knees buckle and send him careening to the ground.

Glaring into emerald eyes that shone with Jenova's acrid power, Cloud allowed himself only a second's glance towards the sky.

That second disturbed him so much that he was overcome, his focus completely taken from his own battle.

Even as he was pushed so sharply down by Sephiroth that he cried out and fell back, the SOLDIER General catching him on his chest, the toe of his boot digging into the deep wound he'd sliced earlier into the blond's flesh, Cloud rolled and tried desperately to wrench his attention from the battle above.

The pair, still whirling with maddening speed and impossible agility, were foregoing lining one another up – they had fallen to physical battle even as they pulled power from the moon's dark deity.

The moon was responding to their call, its continence larger and more brilliant than ever before, the red that pooled upon its ivory surface so intense as to put the most ruby of roses to shame. Blood tears burst from the heaven's crimson eye, draining from the orb's surface in long streams.

"Holy shit!" Cloud faintly heard Zell's voice scream from the peninsula above, followed by a rapid order for Irvine to "hurry up and do something."

While he didn't catch the sniper's words, he was able to catch a glimpse of the man, crouched patiently at the edge of the peninsula, his gun held to his shoulder, its barrel not pointed at a target at that moment as he watched the battle above.

The moon's weeping made the planet itself seem to shudder, the ground rumbling ominously below Cloud's body.

Shoving himself rapidly to his feet, he sprang from his position, his hand slapping the ground and his arm bending to send him into a controlled roll as Sephiroth swung in for the sudden kill. Sliding neatly below the murderous swing of Masamune, Cloud regained his feet and swung on his heel, holding his weapon before himself once more.

The streams of light that poured from the moon lit the area as brilliantly as the sun would, the odd backdrop of night and black combined with red and white and the roaring oranges of fire making it a haunting parody of day.

Sephiroth flew in towards Cloud, his wounded wing managing one quick sweep through the humming air to propel himself with superhuman speed to his opponent. Cloud swiftly leapt backwards, his footing careful and precise, dancing over the ground before springing off the side of the huge mound that lay at the center of the pit that once was Obel Lake. Even as his foot scrapped hardened mud from the ruby-colored dragon's corpse, he launched himself up and vaulted backwards.

One of the stone he'd held in his pocket, a single sample of the round orbs Squall had purchased from the man he'd called 'Joker' and given to his Knight, bounded onto the dragon's corpse and rolled down to the ground, coming to a rest right by Cloud's freshly landed foot.

Picking it up, he stared at it for a moment before hurling it with deadly force as the SOLDIER General that was leaping over the red draconic corpse to engage him.

As it collided with Sephiroth, it shattered.

And Cloud instantly regretted his action.

A yellow aura of energy spread over the silver-haired man's body, an angel's glow encasing him as he drew Masamune back.

Before Cloud had time to respond, he was on the receiving end of an Octaslash.

He didn't even have an opportunity to register every separate blow – it was a conglomerate of pain and agony, his entire body suddenly burning with fire and searing wounds, blood bursting from sliced skin to slick his flesh and his surroundings. He slammed into the ground, bouncing once to receive the final blows of the devastating attack before he rolled limply away, his momentum carrying him more than any desire to escape.

As Cloud laid twitching in the mud, his body wracked with excruciating burning as it leaked crimson rivers into the earth, he faintly heard the strong voice of Quistis from above – she was shouting a single word.

"Dispel."

Cloud managed to grip his sword and bring it up, barely deflecting Masamune's point from skewering him completely, sending it skittering along Caladbolg's length and into the hardening earth instead.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the form of his opponent, no longer surrounded with that odd golden aura but looming and omnipresent all the same.

Cloud realized at that moment that he had no way to defend himself. He had no means of reacting quickly enough to the next inevitable attack to save his own life.

The scream of Jenova's stolen voice was his deliverer.

As Sephiroth turned his head sharply to stare into the sky, Cloud squirmed away and rolled behind the remnants of the spire Squall had previously occupied before the _Tornado_ had reduced it to rubble. There he dug through his pockets with desperate speed.

He remembered what Squall had asked for.

Curagas and Auras.

And while Cloud had no real clue what an Aura was, other than the fact that an Aura is likely what he'd smashed Sephiroth in the face with and inadvertently driven him to have the strength and adrenaline-rush required to pulverize him with his limit break, he could readily guess what a Curaga was. He was willing to bet it was something along the lines of a Cure1, if not a Cure2.

He nearly grinned as his fingers folded over the hard, marble-sized orbs in his pocket. Yanking a handful, he stared.

He had three light pink orbs in his hand.

Cloud figured they had to be the Curagas he'd heard Squall request – the orb he'd blessed his enemy with had been yellow, after all, and given that Sephiroth's wing still dribbled blood and hung fairly limply when not in use he'd not been granted any healing.

Quickly crushing one of the orbs in his hand and rubbing the powder over himself, he nearly let an audible sigh of relief wash over him as he felt the tingle of magic flow through his tattered skin and battered flesh.

He wasn't able to enjoy the sensation of mystic healing for long – Cloud was driven back onto the defensive as Sephiroth ripped his attention from above and returned his attack to Cloud.

Jenova's body had been assaulted by a horribly powerful spell that had drawn a blast of air, not nearly as devastating as the mighty _Tornado_ that she'd used to attempt to demolish her opponent - this spell's focus seemed more to be to drive her from the sky rather than to kill her outright. Nearly thrown from the sky, the alien monster had let her newly acquired vocal chords cry out with indignant shock that could have easily been interpreted as panic or fright to any who didn't know the truth behind the young woman's flesh.

Once she'd turned and unfurled her wings, catching herself and lifting herself high with the night's winds once more before colliding with the ground, Sephiroth allowed her to return to her battle and instead redoubled his efforts on his own.

Gridlocked with one another once more, Cloud snarled. "You'll never win," he hissed through clenched teeth.

A mocking smirk twisted Sephiroth's lips. "You can not hope to triumph, Cloud. Jenova has learned to harness the might of this planet's ultimate strength. Her divinity is nearly completely restored."

"Nearly!" Cloud bit. "So not at all! She only holds a portion of the moon deity's power."

"And to complete it, all she must do is slay the boy. For he holds the last vestiges of the power that frame once contained," the silver-haired General breathed with a sneer.

As Cloud struggled in vain against Sephiroth, the taller man let his sneer fade into a nearly pleasant smile. "I had made a mistake. I'd thought that the vessel itself would still contain the power it had displayed when defending itself from me. That the energies Mother whispered were within her would stay even upon death – I had not anticipated the transfusion of powers from the dying to another living vessel.

"If I had realized that such a maneuver were possible, perhaps I would have slain them both at that moment – with my body the only remaining vessel available for their might, I would have garnered their might – I would have become this world's new God."

"In your dreams," Cloud crossly snarled, his quip strained and short as he snapped his statement out with a short exhalation of breath.

"Indeed, in my dreams," his opponent softly growled. "But in this fashion, so shall our Mother be complete. She will be restored, her new body able to house and channel both her and the ancient magics of this world. When she takes the portion of power the girl who'd occupied that body had thrust away from Mother, she will be whole – no, she'll be better than whole. She'll be more powerful than she was when she collided with your world."

Without enough breath to respond, Cloud could only glower angrily at Sephiroth.

It all made sense. Odd, disjointed, but clear sense.

The fragments of Jenova, torn asunder and scattered, had found a means to be completely restored. Away from the Lifestream that overpowered them and threatened to absorb them, from that very Lifestream she had sought to assimilate when she'd originally been drawn to the planet, she had found power that rivaled that she would have had upon Cloud's Planet's consumption.

"And when she is complete, so shall we be, Cloud. With her in our veins, with her before us, with her holding the power of this world's moon and magic, we will have Reunion – we will become one with her and join her divinity."

"No!" Cloud gasped, his feet sliding along the ground as he tried to push against his taller, stronger opponent.

"She will take you, Cloud. Just as she will take me. As she takes those who are of her – her son, her son's puppet. Accept it and cease your defense of the carcass who holds her power from her grasp."

Cloud roared as he launched himself with every ounce of strength he had in his body against Masamune.

Taken aback, Sephiroth staggered backwards, very nearly losing his footing and having to leap away from Cloud. A sweep of Masamune to counteract the flap of an outstretched wing to maintain balance made a cacophony of racket on top of the roars, screams and explosions of the night.

Finally having the offensive, Cloud wasted no time in crashing against his opponent once again.

Skillfully deflecting swing after swing, Sephiroth's arrogant smile melted into a grimace of consternation laced with determination and the onset of weariness.

His emerald cat eyes narrowed as he glared at Cloud, mako blue exhausted beyond measure but burning with resolve and purpose.

Cloud had come to realize one simple truth – if he could keep Sephiroth from reaching the Sorcerer, Squall had more than a fighting chance of making it through the night.

As Sephiroth had professed, Jenova's power was incomplete – the vessel she'd chosen was indeed a perfect conduit for the moon's might and the world's magic, capable of channeling power beyond anything possessed by human beings and amplifying the energies that passed through her body beyond measure. But the vessel was incomplete – only the ability to channel, a smattering of spells and the amplifying effects were present.

Squall held the lion's share of spells. He also had significantly more control, able to cast spells without a focal target, crafting the ice of his deadly spells into movable, controllable rivets that answered his beck and call. He had the defensive spells and the status magic.

His wings were also more solid – the more vast well of power that danced within his body lent them strength and presense.

While airborne, Jenova could manage with nothing more than the overpowered _Tornado_ she'd had on display earlier. The deadly _Flares_ she had used earlier seemed lost to her, and her attempt to cast an _Ultima_ was slow and halted, easily interrupted by her opponent. Squall on the other hand could use any spell of his choosing while either stationary or airborne, the wings that carried him requiring no effort to maintain present and operating.

Rinoa had very nearly succeeded in keeping all of her power out of Jenova's hands – Cloud found himself wishing in a stray second that she had.

With his clear advantages in the battle, his deity-granted might being the pull that was drawing the moon's blood tears through space when he called upon it for power, he could clearly stand his own against the alien invader who'd infested the corpse of his beloved.

If he managed to find the compulsion to put his fiancé to eternal peace, he'd win.

That compulsion was all Cloud was terrified of.

He knew just by observing the battle, by observing Sephiroth's reactions, that Jenova couldn't win on her own. She needed to complete her power. She needed to become whole. She needed to kill Squall and absorb that which the girl who's soul once occupied that body had transferred to her love. But he also knew that Squall was terrified of the notion of murdering the young woman once again.

His distraction made him vulnerable.

And Sephiroth recognized that vulnerability.

Redoubling his efforts, Sephiroth planted his feet hard into the ground and retained his position as Cloud shoved against him with all fo his strength.

In a sudden turn of events, the SOLDIER General pressed against Cloud, shoving him away and giving himself the opportunity he needed to escape his battle against the Knight and take it to the Sorcerer.

Sephiroth had realized all that Cloud had concluded. He knew Jenova couldn't face the Sorcerer on her own.

And he knew the purpose he had as her sword, her weapon, her hand directed by her whim – he was to carry out her dreadful tasking for her, to see her complete, to bring both of them – all of them – to their glorious Reunion.

The one-winged beast launched himself straight up, his singular black wing unfurled and beating heavily as he leapt for the battling angels above with every ounce of mako-granted strength and Jenova's cellular power that he possessed.

Cloud readily pursued.

Squall wasn't paying attention to the two of them – he had his hands full deflecting spells cast wildly by Jenova while attempting to dodge swooping attacks that threatened to disarm or wound him with a simple knife she'd managed to attain while possessing Rinoa's corpse.

Springing desperately from chunk of rubble to side of peninsula, Cloud attempted to get as much upward motion as swiftly as possible. He reached desperately for his opponent, lagging just far enough behind that he couldn't intercept him.

Cloud screamed, his voice tainted with hate and fury, with fear and panic was he hurtled with every shred of speed he possessed after Sephiroth. Frustration filled him and colored his voice as he watched time slow to a veritable crawl before his eyes.

The two angels swung low, nearly colliding with the pursuant General and the Knight.

Murderous white light filled the atmosphere, pouring from glistening white wings and reflecting off mirror-like gunmetal.

The explosion that filled Cloud's senses wasn't the blast of magic – it was the ringing of Exeter reverberating through the night as Irvine finally acted, his sniper eyes seeing his opportunity and his lightning-quick reflexes touching the trigger before anything else could register.

Cloud's eyes widened as red splashed across his vision and his ears were finally embraced in absolute silence.

_-to be concluded-_

* * *

><p>raerobdestiny: Thanks for reviewing! I updated as quickly as I could. :) Hope you like the newest chapter! And yup, Jenova. Which was fun as heck to write. :P I'm just praying that I got this chapter right!<p> 


	13. The Shadow of the Day

While you're at it, will you please visit my author profile and participate in my li'l poll? I'd greatly appreciate it! :D

Disclaimer: I in no way own any portion of the Final Fantasy franchise except the spiffy stuff I've purchased and the Squall plushie I snuggle with regularity. I also don't own any song by Linkin Park, especially not 'Shadow of the Day' which provides not only the chapter titles for this story but also the inspiration for this fic in its entirety. Please don't sue – I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

Chapter 13  
><span>The Shadow of the Day<span>

_Wish I could write more neatly, but this may be the last opportunity I have to write. To clear my head. While I want to make it through the upcoming trials, I very well may not. Sometimes, a guy has to face reality and realize that this in fact may be the last chance I have to put pen to paper._

_Even if writing in this car on the road make this less than legible, I've got to do it – I've got to clear my mind before going into battle. We're only a few miles from Obel Lake, after all. And I've had plenty of time to think._

_Everything finally makes sense._

_Now that I've had time to really think about it, everything is crystal clear. Why this happened. What has happened. What lies in the near future, and why._

_I don't know why I never put together the string of events that have lead to my current situation before now. It seems so very obvious in a twisted and surreal way._

_Rinoa was never fate's target. I was._

_It seems absolutely insane, but the more I think about it, the more likely it is._

_Why did this circle of events start? Why did Garden even start to exist? What could possibly bring the loop to an end? What started the loop in the first place?_

_Me. It all centered around me._

_It's enough to make my head damned near explode. Why me? I have no real idea. That's something I'll have to ponder in the future, provided I survive to see it._

_But… me. I was Ultimecia's target this entire time. I was the focal point of her madness. This current reality, this present, this condition I'm in at the moment, was her desire. Is her desire. Will be her desire._

_I was the one to lay upon her the final blow. I killed her. I forced unto her the need to strip her power, to cast them to another, to die in peace. To keep another from assimilating her power without her desire, another she would see as unfit from gaining the power of the dark God Hyne himself. To keep the circle running._

_I know what her goal was – to compress time into a singularity, an instant where nothing and no one can exist except those persons who can exist beyond time, those who are unaffected by it – those who have the power of Sorcery flowing through their veins. To eradicate an existence in which she and her kind were ostracized, expunged from society as derelicts of humanity, scrubbed from the annuls of history for any good they'd ever accomplished, their efforts rewritten as the triumphs of man and instead labeled as the villainous creatures who haunted the past's shadows. She wanted justice for every Sorcerer and Sorceress who'd ever been wrongly slaughtered, for every man and woman who'd been unjustly burned or drowned or hung on suspicion of holding the power of Sorcery. She wanted this prejudiced, hateful world to die, to be reset by the might of Hyne. She wanted to start existence over, allowing it to blossom from her vision of peace and serenity._

_And she blamed her utopia's downfall on me. Because I felled her. With Lionheart in my hands and a scream upon my lips, I struck her down as man has murdered her kind throughout all of history._

_She'd intended to give me her might. To make me as she was. To teach me the wrongs of man, the plight of those plagued with Sorcery._

_Crazy, huh? Sure seems that way, until a guy stops to think._

_She followed me through time._

_Not Rinoa. Not the girl who held most of her power, the might poured into Adel and the magic in Edea's veins both having been expunged into my darling fiancé's body._

_Rinoa had gone back where she belonged – she had focused well, her thoughts drawing her back to our time, to the field where I'd promised to meet her. To the flowery waves of bliss outside of the orphanage I'd first known as a bastion of peace, to wait for me._

_It hadn't been any of my friends – they'd all returned to Balamb Garden, their desires to return home taking them without problem through time and space and depositing them back into the front lobby of the flying academy._

_Me._

_I'd lost my focus, my desire to return to the orphanage, to that field, having been mingled with my desire for none of the madness to have ever occurred, for none of the misery or pain deposited on myself or my friends to have been delivered. I had dreamt of changing the past, of erasing whatever thread would lead to our precious Matron being a Sorceress from existence._

_Instead, I'd been the catalyst to begin the entire chain of events._

_If I'd not attempted to see my foolish notions come to fruition, nothing would have happened. If I'd not desired to change the past, our present, our future, would never have come to being._

_Ultimecia followed me. Did she know I'd go back to my Matron? Did she know I'd go back to my first home, to see the one who would take on her powers?_

_I don't think so._

_She'd followed me, intending to give me her might._

_I remember the day I showed up at the orphanage. I remember running by the 'strange man' who'd been standing with Matron, the one who looked pained beyond belief when she'd ruffled my hair and told me that I was the only Squall permitted there._

_The day I'd run to the beach to look for Ellone, the other children had been in the buildings that constituted the orphanage. Zell had come down with a cold, and Quistis and Selphie were both occupied with trying to keep him bedridden. Irvine had been watching them tie the unfortunate blond down with ropes, and Seifer had decided that a bound Zell would be a fantastic victim to torment. I'd had enough of their tomfoolery and decided to escape the entire situation, to see if, against all hope or reason, Ellone had come back to the beach she'd departed us from._

_Ultimecia hadn't been going towards the rest – she'd been walking after me. When Edea had told me that she didn't want any of the children to become a bearer of Sorcery, she'd been speaking of me._

_Might explain why the Guardian Forces take so easily to me. Why Eden chose me as her permanent harbor. Because if I had been the Sorceress' target to assimilate her power, if I was so capable of taking on Sorcery that I'd not even realized that I'd taken Rinoa's might until I'd unleashed with it when fighting against Eden herself…_

_History has a way of explaining things. That those who became Sorceresses and Sorcerers were conduits to Hyne's power, chosen by the dark God due to the ease with which he could channel his might through them. Does that mean I'm such a conduit? Is that why she followed me? Or was it simply through a need for revenge? Or a need for me to understand, so that the next time I faced her and threw myself backwards in time, that I'd break the loop and let her finally succeed? That I'd be driven to not tell Matron about Garden and thereby plant the seed of knowledge in her mind, the very seed that would blossom into the complex that would defeat Ultimecia in her own time?_

_The final option would be the one I would follow, if I'd been in Ultimecia's shoes. I'd want my aggressor to understand what he or she was doing, to understand what he or she was allowing to continue on, and perhaps encourage them indirectly to stop whatever actions were leading to my termination. I think that was her goal. I feel that's why she followed me through time._

_She wanted me to be a Sorcerer so I wouldn't start Garden. So I wouldn't arrive in her time. And then I wouldn't murder her._

_Time would compress, humanity would be expunged from history's record, and Time would start again, purged of our heinous mistakes._

_It almost seems a pity that Matron stepped before her, that she with her awakened Sorceress' blood volunteered to take Ultimecia's might into herself and protect me from becoming one of Hyne's chosen._

_If she'd known that I'd become one of her ilk now, would Matron still have made the decision that she did? Or would she have allowed Ultimecia to stagger by us, weak and gasping for breath, to find me on the beach and pour her power into my childish frame?_

_Guess it doesn't really matter._

_The past is the past – Ellone always professed that it could never be changed. Even in the one chance that I had to truly change it, I'd failed in executing any derisive shift in its direction. And now, without the ability to harness the power of compression or knowledge of how to make it work, it is truly untouchable. No amount of pondering, of writing and thinking and gnawing at it, will ever result in a change of the past._

_The present is what matters. The future is what matters._

_Everything that's lead to the present is set in stone, incapable of being reversed. Rinoa is gone forever. The sun has set for her, and the shadow of the day has embraced her in grey for eternity. I can't bring her back no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I wish._

_As much as I long to cling to her for the remainder of my life, I realize that I do in fact have to move on._

_While she is no longer with me, while my future with her is dead and buried, I do still have my own life. I have my own future to see._

_Even though it seems empty, even though the thought of not having her at my side hurts, it's time to say goodbye to the notion of carrying on with her and focus instead on what I have now, on what I can carry forth with._

_As Ultimecia intended, I am one of her kind._

_But despite her longings, I still have no regrets concerning what I accomplished._

_While I might now hold some pity towards her, her desires clear in my heart and my mind and her motives cleared of any misinterpretation I might have held, I still hold no mercy within me._

_Yes, those who have Sorcery in their veins have been wrongly persecuted throughout time. Yes, those who have Hyne's might have been tormented and wrongly accused for all of man's pains throughout history. But even that knowledge would not have stopped me. Will not stop me._

_To terminate mankind is not the solution to history's problems. To massacre humanity will not cleanse the future._

_To live with them, to scrub clean the slate of mistrust, while a slow and meticulous process is the only process I can see as having any merit._

_I might now be man's greatest enemy, but I will not see it ended._

_I will not see the world my friends, my associates, my enemies and my Knight inhabit brought to an end by my hands._

_I have a future to reach for, a present to live in, a past to regret at times and rejoice in at others. I have my friends, practically my family, to continue to exist for._

_I have my Knight to live for._

_And I have myself to live for._

_It seems odd, to want to live on regardless of all that's happened. Or because of all that's happened. But I think that, perhaps, it's not so odd given what I feel these days._

_The ache of losing Rinoa will always swim within my heart. Her loss still leaves a bitter taste upon my tongue and the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes. But whereas a few weeks ago my despair over the emptiness her death left in my heart nearly drove my longing to live completely away, these days it simply leaves me suffering a dull pain when my heart beats in recollection of the sweet times we had together. Only when a familiar song plays, I pass a familiar bit of scenery, my eye beholds those colors she wished to use for our wedding._

_More often than not, I feel some semblance of resolution, some drive to continue to live, to find magic and brightness in my life again rather than continue to dwell in the shadows and darkness of despair. To harness the brilliance offered to me with both hands and hold on tight, to let the one who offers me that chance at regaining happiness show me what life has in store for me once again._

_I think my heart is beginning to heal._

_It seems sudden and quick. It almost seems to mock the deep relationship I built with Rinoa, our slow waltz from my standoffish refusal to immerse myself in the realm of human emotion and her resolution to lead me into that frightening place to our mutual love and understanding of one another that took so very long to craft into the perfection I knew it was._

_That my heart could so rapidly find a vestige of joy, a glimmer of hope and a tenacious thread to grasp at and continue to survive should make me angry. At the very least, it should drive me to despondency._

_Instead, I feel resolution._

_I will strive to live. I don't know if it's possible, but I will try my best._

_I will go out there, gunblade in hand and the resolve to be victorious firm within my heart. I will step into battle, any hesitation to use the might Rinoa has opened to me cast aside. I will harness the might of the moon, the sharpness of my blade, and emerge alive if I am capable of doing so._

_Not because it's what I desire, even though it is something I hope for. Not because it's what Rinoa would want, even though she'd punish me for eternity if I were to give up living simply because she were no longer at my side (that is provided that an afterlife even exists and we were to run into one another there)._

_Because he needs me to._

_He needs to know he's succeeded. He needs to know that we've won together, that we've overcome the obstacle that now stands before the both of us._

_Because only once he's succeeded will he be happy._

_Then I can do what must come in order to secure his happiness – I can see if this power Rinoa granted to me can send him back home._

_Because… I've come to realize that something she always professed is so very true._

_When you care for another more deeply than any other, you want everything for that other. You want nothing but happiness for that other, even if their happiness comes at the cost of your own._

_No matter how alone I will be, no matter how miserable life will become without that simple glow of painless restitute I've found in him, I will ensure his happiness. And in delivering his happiness, I will find some for myself._

_While I've always hated being alone, my days of being a lonely orphan followed by my days of being a lonely recluse at the Garden crafting my cynical and standoffish persona, I will throw myself back into that cast if necessary. I will take on the burden of solitude without hesitation._

_I will not damn him to staying at my side – I can't ask him to keep sacrificing for me. I have never begged anyone to stay by my side, no matter how much my heart has screamed for me to do so – I'm not going to begin now._

_I will send him home. Before I assign the word to my emotions that I dread this feeling I've so quickly come to tether to my Knight has become. Before I confess to myself what I know Rinoa would be egging me on to accept as the truth. Before I acknowledge that I might in fact be falling for someone once more, allowing myself to feel as strongly for someone as I felt for Rinoa._

_Before my heart decides to finally be selfish, and keep him here for myself._

* * *

><p>Cloud sighed as he brushed his fingers over the page with its rough and light lettering, the script a touch shaky and jumbled, its hurried lack of quality making it difficult to make out. A few jittering scratches marked the paper, evidence of the instability present in the moment the page had been scrawled upon.<p>

The vehicle had in fact been bouncing, its suspension being worked by the poor quality of the earthquake-cracked road, when the page was being written on.

One final draw of a finger over the last words in the book reinforced the tale's derisive end once again. A tremulous breath drawn into compressed lungs made Cloud clench his teeth, his determination not to allow his emotional state to run away with him nearly overcome by his realization of what those final words meant.

He still couldn't get over most of the secrets kept from prying souls that had been opened to him by his perusing of the surprisingly intimate journal. In the last few hours of reading, he'd come to know the author of the work more than he had over the course of the days they'd spent in one another's company, their stuttered conversations shy and limited at best. For the first time, he finally felt that he had an understanding of the writer behind the halted, introverted words he'd been absorbing.

All reading the faltering work had done was reinforce his decision.

The notion of going home, of working towards his goals with the intention of testing whether or not Sorcery could place him back in the world of his origin, had been shattered completely.

Cloud had come to a conclusion – what had happened, his sudden expulsion from his life built on a shattered foundation of guilt and doubt, had been fate allowing him to reset his destiny. His dull and monochrome existence, the day-to-day doldrums that constituted his life upon his home world, had been brought to an end.

There, he had been defined by his friends, by his actions, by his checkerboard past with its sorrowful and erroneous paths. He had been running from that definition of himself even as he had accepted the lackluster continuity of existence with his dearest childhood friend, seeking to distance himself from who he was and what others perceived of him. He'd been set to live for himself, by himself if necessary, because living to others' notions of him had formed an unsatisfying past filled with heartache and failure.

His desire to live up to Tifa's expectations for him to be a defender, to have the strength to come back and rescue her from whatever would trouble her, had lead him to his notion of being a SOLDIER, his disappointment in his failure to attain such a position, his downfall and his shame when he returned to Niebelheim at General Sephiroth's side as a simple infantry man, his inclusion in experiments that made him something less than human and rather a clone of a fallen warrior whose purpose was to serve the one who created him.

His desire to live up to his friends' expectations for him to be a leader, a point upon the spear that was posted to defend the Planet against those who would harm it, had lead to his dismal spiral into self discovery and the full confrontation of his weaknesses that left him embittered. He'd been overtaken, controlled and manipulated along every step, his leadership being forced upon him and his directions a joke at best. Everyone looked to him not for his capabilities as a leader, but for his strength to cover them in the heat of battle.

His desire to live up to the expectations of the beautiful flower girl who'd been so enamored with his hero had ultimately lead to her death, his inability to stay by her side and defend her from the clone of the fallen General that sought his original's resurrection and aspirations of godhood attained having set her as the unfortunate sacrifice for the Planet.

And when he'd decided that he'd had enough with living to fulfill the desires of others, he'd found nothing remained for him.

He'd been living for himself – a purposeless, empty, directionless meandering through life that had left a bitter flavor upon his lips.

He'd run from _Seventh Heaven_, his business giving him reason to flee, to escape the meaningless meandering that his life had become. He'd run from what his life had become. His running had erupted into the cataclysmic end of his past life.

He missed his friends. He missed Tifa. He missed his motorcycle. He even missed the crazy Turk who'd dragged him to North Crater and inadvertently made possible his new future.

But none of the emptiness in his heart derived from the lack of his friends' presences would move him to desire a return to his home world.

He'd finally found purpose. He'd finally found direction. He'd discovered someone who needed him more than any ever had in his past, who had no expectations or preconceived notions of how he should act, how powerful he should be or what he should be capable of. He had no expectations to live up to other than those he placed on himself. He had someone else to live for rather than simply himself.

Cloud had finally found satisfaction with his life.

Even as he closed the journal, his fingers lightly caressing the worn cover and the creased binding, he cast his gaze towards the one who had written it.

The young man rested perfectly still in his crystalline sarcophagus, his eyes closed to the world, his appearance that of a corpse preserved under a sheet of glass. Thin hands folded over a thin chest, their papery skin as white as the paper in the journal Cloud held in a tight grasp, didn't flinch from their arrangement. Dark lashes pressed against dark bruises under closed eyes that colored pale skin purple didn't flicker.

Only the abnormally slow rise and fall of the death-colored body's chest gave any outward inkling that life still flowed through it.

Squall had been in his strange comatose state, cold to the touch and incapable of being roused, since the clamorous end of the battle.

Cloud unconsciously rubbed his arms, his eyes drifting shut to block the sight of the unconscious Sorcerer from his vision.

Exeter's explosion still filled his ears.

He remembered flying after Sephiroth, every ounce of strength granted to him by the mako that tainted his blood, every iota of agility granted to him by Jenova's cells poisoning his system, launching him with speed beyond humanly attainable after his prey. He'd found the energy to grip his sword more tightly than he had even at the beginning of the battle, his hands nearly pressing new grooves into the impressively strong metal.

His Sorcerer was threatened. Sephiroth's goal was to reach Squall while he was distracted, the youth's focus strictly on defending all who stood upon the ground from the spells of the girl before him.

The anguish he had felt through the bond he and Squall shared had been palatable. Cloud still couldn't wash that agony from the back of his mind.

Jenova had been infused in the body of the woman Squall had loved.

The Sorceress Rinoa had become Jenova's vessel upon the world Cloud had been stranded upon.

And the young man who'd been run through defending her, who'd been forced to take her power as she thrust it upon him in an effort to keep her enemies from garnering the strength of the deity of the moon, who'd mourned her loss with every breath of his life, had been reluctant to fight her.

Cloud understood his dilemma – Squall couldn't bring himself to strike down the woman he loved. The young Sorcerer, despite Cloud's urgent thoughts and desires pressed unto him to ignore the body and see instead the alien monster that boiled underneath the pretty surface of innocence, wouldn't slay her.

He couldn't bring himself to kill the girl he'd already seen die.

Jenova had learned the ways of her vessel – she'd learned to harness the power of the girl she possessed, much as she'd learned to direct the corpse of her favored son, Sephiroth. As she'd harnessed his strength and might when Cloud and his friends had faced Sephiroth at the Planet's Core, she was drawing the magic of the moon through the diminutive frame she infested, the effects of every effortlessly cast spell magnified beyond comprehension.

The only equalizer, in fact the only defense they had, was Squall. The man who had taken every ounce of power Rinoa had forced onto him before she'd been taken by the silver-haired invader to contain the putrid green energy that contained Jenova's final cells.

The pair had taken to the air, carried by wings crafted of the moon deity's magic, their battle a chaotic whirl of feathers and light, a pinwheel deflected by a hastily raised gunblade and spells hurled with reckless abandon that razed the land in hellfire and ice.

Sephiroth had pressed against Cloud, giving himself the opportunity he needed to escape his battle against the Knight and take it to the Sorcerer himself.

Cloud had readily pursued. Squall wasn't prepared for Sephiroth. He'd had his hands full dealing with Jenova.

But Sephiroth had the lead, and with Masamune's impressive reach Cloud soon came to a grim realization – there was no way he could intercept the strike.

He screamed, his cry both of terror and hatred, as he hurtled with every shred of speed he had after his prey, frustration coloring his voice as he watched every tenth of a second pass with excruciating slowness, watching his target get closer and closer to his ward as he failed to close in. His eyes were nearly forced shut, the murderously white light of paired wielders of Sorcery harnessing the might of the bloodied moon above them, the feathers of Jenova's stolen body burning with heavenly fire that reflected off the mirror-sheen of Squall's huge silver wings blindingly brilliant.

Exeter had roared.

Cloud's vision was suddenly filled with red even as his ears took in the unearthly scream of his Sorcerer.

He felt his heart shatter even as they all plummeted back towards the ground.

Sephiroth had overshot his target, his eyes huge in shock and disbelief even as he unfurled the one great black wing he possessed, turning his momentum and sweeping for the ground.

Cloud's opportunity came in taking a wild swing at the SOLDIER General as he changed direction, his own vector shifting enough to carry him back to the hard soil below.

When he landed, he felt nauseous.

Squall knelt, shivering and wide eyed with tears pouring over his cheeks, staring at the body he held in his arms. Blood, red tainted with green, coated his chest and his arms and pooled around his legs as he knelt on the singed grass, silver wings folded over his back with long flight feathers pressed to the ground. Soft purple energy floated around the both of them, flittering like translucent butterflies of light from each white feather as they faded from reality and seeping into the shaking boy who held the disintegrating corpse with its shattered head. The soft whisper of magic floating through the area, quiet music infesting silence, accompanied the fading light that shone on the shredded remains of the deceased girl's face that finally held serenity and peace.

Even as green energy slid around his boots, Sephiroth ground his teeth together, his emerald eyes narrowed in sheer rage.

Before anyone could even shout a warning, he lifted his sword, gripped its hilt in both of his hands and sprang towards the pair soaked in blood.

Cloud burst forward, his sword leading his way, a cry upon his lips as he swung. The sharp clang of Masamune and Caladbolg meeting soared through the night.

Sephiroth planted his foot hard into the soil, turning with a roar of unfettered rage even as he pushed against Cloud's sword with all of his might.

With a cry, Cloud was flung away from his opponent at bone-breaking speed, slamming solidly into the SeeD who'd been charging towards the swordsmen with every intention to assist – he and Zell went down with a thunderous crash.

As Cloud had managed to lift his head, he'd seen Squall slowly stagger to his feet even as Sephiroth bore down on him, murder in cat-slit eyes and Jenova's final tendrils of being seeping into his skin.

The Sorcerer turned sharply, huge silver wings rapidly flinging out to his sides to maintain his balance.

White burned the edges of those feathers, thin wing fingers much like those of a bat gleaming like pure ivory holding sheets of mirror-like silver feathers deployed. The glow that erupted from those wings, more brilliant than any seen yet in the night, was more blinding than the flares of the sun itself.

The moon visibly surged in the sky.

After Cloud had managed to see anything other than white, thin shadows beginning to seep across his vision, he'd staggered to his feet with his sword tightly gripped in his hand. He shook his head sharply, trying to clear the ringing from his ears, the explosion that boomed through the atmosphere when the moon had pulsed in the heavens still bombarding his brain. Taking a shaky step forward, he'd called for his Sorcerer.

When he'd received no answer, he'd burst into a run.

Seconds passed before he knelt by the dark shape he judged to be Squall, his hand not occupied by his sword shaking as he reached for the humanoid form. The chill that met his fingers nearly drew a sob from his throat.

But then, he'd felt the soft beat of the youth's heart, slow beyond what any human's rhythm should be but present all the same.

It had taken many minutes after he'd gathered the Sorcerer's body into his arms, his sword abandoned by his knee, until he could finally see his surroundings again.

The rest of the SeeDs, in a similar blinded and dazed state as himself, had simply unleashed their Guardian Forces to deal with the few monsters that remained in the area – Selphie was barely beginning to seep back into reality, the cacophonous chugging and rattling of the demonic train that rested in her mind fading back into the obscurity in which it primarily existed. The rest were getting to their feet, staring at him and his charge with huge, frightened eyes.

When he'd looked for Sephiroth, all he'd managed to find was Masamune, shattered and scattered across the landscape, and one of the General's boots that still smoldered and smelled of burned flesh.

They'd tried all they could with Squall – harnessing the might of their Guardian Forces, they'd attempted to use magic to heal him to no avail. They'd brought forth Mega-Elixers that failed to work. They even attempted to use a Phoenix Down without results.

Cloud had taken a deep breath and shook his head. He remembered how Squall had been in the Medical Ward on Balamb Garden, when his skin had been cold to the touch and his vitals below anything capable of supporting life. When the magic of the moon itself had healed him.

After reassuring himself that everything would be fine, after gathering the youth into his arms and burying his face into soft brunet hair, he'd breathed a sigh of relief.

They'd won.

His relief had been cut short – a huge ship, eerily similar to the nearby _Ragnarok_, landed with ear-splitting racket and hot exhaust.

Cloud was shaken – he was worn and beaten by his battle with Sephiroth, his wounds healed by a few Hi Potions given to him by gracious SeeDs when they'd been doing their best to restore vitality to Squall, but they still horribly aching. His muscles were tired beyond belief, his strength so depleted that holding the frail Sorcerer in his arms was taxing.

The others around him, much to his surprise, stood before him.

"But…" Cloud had whispered softly.

"But nothin'," Zell had snarled at him, even as he pulled his blood-soaked gloves over oddly twisted knuckles and winced as they tugged against bone that was most certainly shattered. "We're gonna defend our friend. You just keep him safe."

Walking to Zell's side, Irvine had gifted Cloud a confident and serene smile as he slung Exeter off his shoulder and held it before him. "Would've said it more eloquently myself," he said with a chuckle even as he busied himself loading large blue rounds of ammunition into his gun.

"Indeed; you can't expect us to abandon Squall in his time of need," Quistis sharply clarified as she moved to step forward, being stopped by Selphie and asked to stay back and lend her support magic to Squall and Cloud in case any of the frontline defenders fell. She'd graciously smiled and nodded, even as Selphie flung her flail's chain over her shoulder and grinned, standing by the Sorcerer and his Knight.

When the huge ramp that lead to the new intruder vessel's cargo bay had dropped, Cloud couldn't help but stare in disbelief even as Quistis gawked, Selphie stared, Irvine nearly dropped his gun and Zell cried out with a loud 'What the hell?'

"Woah, woah! What's with all the commotion? I'm unarmed! We're all unarmed! Kiros, come show them that we're unarmed, will you?"

"Sir, we're hardly unarmed. The ship has gattling guns on it."

"Oh, you know what I mean."

Cloud had narrowed his eyes, looking over at Quistis before snorting. "What the hell is this?"

"I can't believe it…" she breathed, her eyes huge.

"Yeah. Where can you get a shirt that bad on this world? On my Planet, you had to go to Costa Del Sol," Cloud blandly observed.

"SIR LAGUNA!" Selphie squealed as she launched herself at the new interloper.

Cloud could barely keep up with the commotion that had followed. Within moments he'd been introduced to a man who insisted on being called Laguna even though every SeeD with the exception of Selphie called him President Loire, his assistants Kiros Seagill, a tall and slender dark skinned man with long intricately braided hair and a stern expression and Ward Zabach, a giant of a man with an impressive scar running over his throat and along his face and a gentle expression in his warrior eyes, and half of the crew of the newly restored _Rapture_, which apparently one of the two sister ships of the _Ragnarok_ that had carried something called an 'Adel' into space a goodly number of years ago. He'd been forced to carry his Sorcerer into the _Rapture_, Zell and Quistis accompanying him even as Irvine and Selphie volunteered to get the _Ragnarok_ back to Balamb Garden, and directed to deliver his charge to a singular bed in a side room off the cargo bay.

After he'd finally laid Squall down, he'd marched around the ship once it'd lifted off to demand answers.

He'd been pulled aside by Quistis before he could brashly avail himself upon their new companions.

She'd been the one to inform him of the history between their group and the new people Cloud had been introduced to. She'd also informed him of the dubious relationship between his Sorcerer and the man called President Loire.

At first riled, Cloud's recollection of Squall's brief recounting of his past rising immediately to mind, he'd snapped that there was no way the tether between his Sorcerer and the man with his easy smile could be true – Squall had, after all, been raised in an orphanage located somewhere called Centra. After Quistis had shrugged and suggested it was speculation but likely true, he'd stormed off to get answers for himself.

However, once he'd found the man in question, his anger immediately fell away.

Cloud couldn't bring himself to question or complain once he'd returned to the small room he'd laid Squall in only to find the man with his long, dark hair and his hideously bright shirt hovering over the comatose youth with a petulant and worried expression on his face and devastation swimming in his eyes.

"He'll be fine," Cloud had attempted, his heart softened by the genuine sorrow and worry worn by the older man.

"Of course," Laguna had softly stated before giving Cloud an empty smile. "He has you to defend him, or so I hear."

Cloud only offered him a quick nod before taking his leave of the room.

It was only when he'd finally found the man named Kiros that he'd discovered why the _Rapture_ had arrived so promptly.

They were of the nation called Esthar. The very nation that Cloud had garnered from every conversation he'd been privy to that held the greatest threat to the Sorcerer. The most technologically advanced nation on the face of the planet, able to scan and monitor the entirety of the globe with their satellites and capable of not only defending themselves but of presenting a viable threat to any other nation that would stand at odds with them with their army populated by highly trained human soldiers and cyborg warriors alike.

They had been monitoring, looking for the Sorcerer, the claims of Balamb Garden telling that the person in question had died from the injuries incurred during its fight with the Guardian Force called Eden having fallen on suspicious ears. Kiros explained it as them looking for whoever the new recipient of that power was – the expression on Ward's face was enough to clue Cloud in that they'd simply refused to believe the cover story, and were watching the Garden like hawks from afar, waiting to see what exactly the military establishment was up to.

With the amount of explosive might on display during the battle between the Sorcerer and the Jenova-infested Sorceress' body coupled with the movement of the moon itself as they called upon the satellite's deity for strength, the Esthar operatives had been able to quickly zero in on their location.

They had a location called 'Sorceress' Memorial.' They intended to seal the Sorcerer in question within it.

Kiros had simply breathed out a lament that no one had suspected they'd discover the Sorcerer was Squall.

At that time, Cloud had been shocked – Quistis and Zell had both entered without his being aware, Zell's angry cracking of already splintered knuckles sounding just as painful as it must have felt. "You think we're letting you lock him in that thing, you've got another thought coming," he'd growled without hesitation.

"Zell," Quistis had softly scolded, laying a hand on his forearm even as a frown turned her lips. "Let's reason with them before we kill them."

"Sure. Reason. Got all the time in the world – right 'till we land."

Cloud did his damnedest to not let the smile that wanted to leak from his mouth display itself on his face – instead, he crossed his arms, walking to Zell's side to stand beside the shorter blond and lend greater numbers to the already formidable threat he presented on his own.

"That won't be necessary," Laguna's voice said, entering into the fray.

As one, everyone turned to face the President as he strolled into the room, his hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki pants and his sandals scraping over the steel of the floor.

"Sir, certainly for everyone's sa-" Kiros began.

"Ut tu tu," Laguna uttered, waving a finger in the face of his taller companion. "Let me speak. This is _Squall_ we're talking about, Kiros. Not just some errant Sorcerer."

"Which is precisely why we have to worry," Kiros muttered quietly under his breath, even as Quistis sighed and nodded her agreement.

"Oh, come now! So he has a short fuse at times," Laguna whimpered.

"And now can blow the entire Palace sky high."

"Not like he couldn't do that before with Eden," the President exclaimed with a cheery grin.

As everyone fell silent, staring with mouths agape at the dark-haired man, he smiled and nodded. "See? He's no more dangerous now than he was before."

"All we've got to worry about is him eventually going insane and unleashing that power against civilization," Kiros stated, his voice flat even as he crossed his arms.

"And that's why we've got this guy!" Laguna professed even as he flung his arm over Cloud's shoulder.

Squirming, the awkwardness of the situation slipping under his skin, Cloud offered Laguna a queasy smile.

"That's right. This guy's his Knight. He'll keep Squall behaving himself!"

"And if he fails?' Kiros asked, one elegant brow arching over a dark eye.

"Eh…" Laguna uttered, his smile falling away and his eyes widening. "Um, hadn't considered that."

At that moment, Quistis bit her thumbnail. "Wait, Sir. I remember something… Rinoa was intending to give it to Matron. Something to suppress her power…"

"Oh yeah!" Zell chimed in, punching his palm with one balled fist. "That bracelet! The Odine invention!"

"Couldn't something like that be crafted? Just in case the inevitable occurs?" Quistis supplied with a shrug, the beginnings of a hopeful smile forming on her mouth.

Cloud carefully buried the resentment that bubbled within him. He was determined to not fail his Sorcerer.

But still, he had to look at all angles of the issue.

What if he were to die? To be killed in battle, eaten by some monster or slain by someone hunting the Sorcerer? What if Squall were to refuse him, to lose himself in the flow of Time despite Cloud's presence? What if he were to somehow take control of Cloud, driving him to do as he pleased and losing himself to the madness of the moon?

And what about the peoples of the nations of the world? Would they be comforted, knowing that Cloud was all that stood between them and destruction? Or would they find reassurance, and he and Squall find a semblance of peace rather than continual threat by simply existing, if there were some external means of controlling Squall's power?

Laguna had mimicked Zell, leaning over with a humongous cheeky grin on his face as his palm nestled his fist. "That's a great idea! Kiros, let's make it so! First stop, Odine's Lab!"

Clearing his throat, Kiros growled, "How about 'first stop, Sorceress' Memorial, after we get Odine on the phone and direct him to meet us there?"

"You're still intending to put him there?" Laguna whimpered with a pout.

"How long do you suppose it will take Odine to craft another suppressor?" Kiros stated, his voice dark as he leaned over Laguna.

As the President verily melted under Kiros' hard glower, Cloud frowned. "This Memorial… he can be freed from it once the device is constructed, right?"

As Ward granted him a silent and reassuring nod, Cloud sighed and nodded. "Alright then. Memorial it is."

Quistis and Zell had both gasped in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. Laguna had nearly fallen on his face as he lurched free of Kiros' overarching gargoyle-looming stance to stare at Cloud also.

With a shrug, Cloud closed his eyes. "Squall needs time to recover. He's physically beaten, yes. But that will heal quickly. He needs time to deal with everything that's just happened – to come to terms with what's occurred. His heart needs to mend itself. And if he can sleep in this Memorial while we build a means for him to have one less thing to worry about, some way to suppress his powers so he doesn't have to worry about suppressing them himself, then maybe that's the best thing we can do for him."

They'd proceeded to the Sorceress' Memorial without any further argument.

Once there, they'd been met by the man everyone referred to as Odine – a tiny, crazed man in a huge ruffled color topping brilliantly colored robes with a laugh that brought eerie recollections of professors from his past that set Cloud on edge, the short beastly creature had been snarling grins and anticipation from the moment they opened the cargo bay door. Cloud was almost reluctant to hand his Sorcerer over, relenting to transferring custody of Squall to the Esthar scientist only at Quistis' request and comforting consolation.

Even as Odine spouted off materials he would need that were apparently in short supply, Zell and Quistis had said their goodbyes, their presences long removed from Garden and certainly missed. Within the hour after arrival they had a shuttle arranged for transport and were whisked from Cloud's life more quickly than he'd wanted them to be.

Cloud hadn't been able to watch as they'd shuttled Squall's still body off to encase it in its crystalline prison. Instead, he'd busied himself with gathering the few belongings he and Squall could both claim from the miniscule collection of things that had been grabbed from their car and thrown into the _Rapture_ before liftoff.

He'd found Squall's journal.

He'd finally read the words spilled by the soul of the man he was defending.

He'd finally realized the depths to which their bond ran.

And he'd discovered that maybe he wasn't so alone in this alien world as he suspected.

He was needed. He was desired. And above all, even if the other wouldn't write the word itself, he knew he was loved.

Pressing his fingertips against the cool exterior of the sarcophagus, he let a thin smile slide onto his lips. "Promise I'll be back soon, Squall. Odine has a list of materials he needs to build that suppressor by now, I'm willing to bet. I'm just going to be fetching them – I used to be a delivery boy, you know. Just gathering and delivering once again."

Turning his back to the crystalline coffin, Cloud shouldered the pack he'd gathered, the journal buried safely in its confines among his clothing and the few supplies he'd claimed as his own. Grasping his sword, he began to wander towards the door.

He'd barely set one foot outside of the huge metal doors that completed the vast, intricately designed Sorcerer prison complex when he felt a presence behind him.

"So, you vill vork for me, boy?" Odine's crackled voice hissed from within the compound.

Turning, running one hand through spiked blond hair, Cloud sighed and nodded. "Yeah. I'll work with you. Just to the ends of restoring Squall's life, to suppress his power and help him live."

"Such dedication to this one," the scientist grumbled even as he handed a hastily scrawled list to the departing warrior. "Vhat are you, SeeD?"

And as the shadow of the day raced over the Estarian desert sands, Cloud turned towards the fading horizon with determination burning in his eyes, his voice firm and proud as he professed, "No. I'm the Sorcerer's Knight. And I will be until death's darkness takes this world's final hour."

_-the end-_

Well, that's all for 'Shadow of the Day'! I'm certainly thankful for you sticking with this story and reading it through to the end, and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I certainly hope that you guys are as satisfied with its ending as I am.

I am actually considering continuing this arc in another story, one detailing Cloud Strife's journey through the world of Final Fantasy 8, discovering all the weird nuances of it – the fact that monsters level up with you, the fact that materia doesn't exist and magic is derived from stones you can find unless you're SeeD and can direct-draw from monsters, the fact that monsters have magic up the wazzoo and aren't afraid to use it. Just a simple story of Cloud vs. the world in his attempt to complete Odine's requests and restore his Sorcerer.

And sorry to those of you who didn't want Sephiroth to be wiped out! But really, it was the best way to complete Squall's arc. Because not defeating Sephiroth would've played complete and utter hell with his motivation and mood. XD But I certainly hope that you guys were satisfied with it, even though it was rather quick. :P Sephiroth vs. Sorcerer = Sorcerer pwns. And c'mon, there's other villains outside of Sephiroth. FF8 has enough political skeez to make a million of 'em. :P Heck, with the world's view of Sorcery, the entire world can be seen as a villain from Cloud and Squall's point of view, with SeeD right on the forefront of the charge. :)

While I'm rather sad that it ended so quickly, I did make a goal for myself – 13 chapters. That was destined to be the overall length of this story, and I'm actually pretty proud of myself for maintaining it. Now granted every chapter was in excess of 20 pages, thereby putting this at the length of a short novel, but still…

That's it for this story! Thanks again for reading, and all reviews are definitely appreciated! :D Hope to see you guys with a future story!


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